Retreat!

If you’ve been reading this blog long, you know that once a year I offer a 26-sentence long fiction piece written in acrostic form, prepared for a contest but happily shared with you. For this year’s challenge, writers had to begin with the letter C and the first three words, “Cautious as ever…” Each subsequent sentence must begin with the next letter of the alphabet, starting over after Z and ending with B. My entry, which did not place in the contest, is called “Retreat!” I hope you enjoy it. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. No animals or columnists were harmed in the writing of this story. No pets of any kind reside at the Todd home.

Cautious as ever, I dipped my big toe into the warm bathwater and swirled it around. Delightful bubbles danced across the surface, promising relaxation at last. Easing myself in, I allowed the warmth to envelop my weary body in luxury as I lay back, water to my chin. Fragrances of lavender and lilacs rose to greet my senses, saturating me with feelings of well-being. Gratitude filled my heart at this chance to unwind at the end of a stressful day. Hess’s calming Concerto for Piano and Orchestra released its healing magic from my iPad while candles flickered from the vanity.

I let out a soul-satisfying sigh, then snapped to attention at the sound of a familiar meow. Just as I opened my eyes, a streak of black fur hurdled the side of the tub, and my placid bath became a whirlpool of helicoptering legs, claws, ears, and whiskers. Katie, the shelter cat I’d brought home against my husband Zane’s wishes, had apparently come looking for my companionship, discovered the bathroom door unlatched, and received more than she’d bargained for. Leaping for the edge of the extra-deep tub, Katie lost her footing and slid back into my bathwater where she flailed for freedom. My arms, legs, and torso were immediately covered in bold red scratches. No matter how hard I tried to rescue her, Katie resisted my help and fought like the ferocious beast Zane had insinuated lurked beneath her innocuous exterior. 

Opie, our happy-go-lucky beagle, scampered in to see what all the ruckus was about. Panicking even more at the appearance of the dog, Katie lunged for my brand-new yellow shower curtain and clawed her way halfway to the top. Quadragenarian that I am, I managed to scramble to my feet. Reaching for the nearest towel, I struggled to maintain my balance while also calming the yapping canine and the yowling cat. Swoosh! The soothing bath product I’d added to the water had formed a slippery film under my feet and down I went. Unfortunately, Opie decided it was all a fun game and ran off with my towel as I grabbed for the shower curtain, only to have the whole rod crash down onto my head. Visions of stars and cats’ tails circled my face in a dizzying display as the first movement of the concerto reached its crescendo.

With all the grace only a sopping wet feline can muster, Katie leaped out from somewhere in the middle of the fallen curtain and sauntered out the now wide-open bathroom door as though she’d premeditated the entire show. Xanthous billows of curtain fabric enfolded all my limbs, pinning me against the side of the tub. Yellowish dye bled from the fabric, turning the water an obscene color I did not wish to bathe in.

Zane, his eyebrows reaching for his hairline, chose this moment to stick his head through the door and ask if everything was okay.

As humiliated as I felt, I remembered exactly why I’d married this man when he silently untangled the curtain, gallantly offered me a hand out of the tub, and lovingly wrapped me in a fluffy dry towel.

Bubble baths are overrated. 

 

When the Alphabet Starts with "Z"

It’s time for my annual “acrostic” story, but the contest organizers changed the rules this year. Instead of starting with the letter ‘A’ and working through the alphabet, each story had to begin with ‘Z’ and work backwards. They provided the first four required words, and I find it uncanny that, in 2020, that first word was “Zooming.” It was set up long before anyone knew how this year would unfold. I’m proud to announce my entry placed third and pleased to share it here along with my Happy Father’s Day to all.

A Father’s Love

Zooming across the bridge leading from one high rise medical building to another, Kaley Kincaid was glad she’d worn sensible shoes even as she blinked back tears, scanning for signs indicating the clinic pharmacy. Yellow arrows painted on the floor clearly marked the way, but all she could think about was Dr. Chu’s solemn tone when he’d shared the results of three-month-old Tommy’s tests.

“Xeroderma Pigmentosum, or XP, is caused by a genetic mutation,” he’d droned. “While there is no cure, we can treat it and try to minimize the destruction. Vitamin D supplements will be required to replace sun exposure, which Tommy will need to avoid all his life. Ultraviolet rays will cause damage to his skin just like it does to yours and mine. The difference is, while our skin heals through nucleotide excision repair, this damage is not repaired in people with xeroderma pigmentosum. Sunglasses will need to be worn during all daylight hours to protect his eyes from forming cataracts,” he continued. “Retinoid creams may help decrease the risk of skin cancer, but should cancer develop, it will be treated in the same way as it would for anyone else.”

Quartets of doctors, all of them Dr. Chu in his white jacket and stethoscope, began to swirl in front of Kaley’s eyes as she felt herself grow faint and a cold sweat begin to trickle down her back.

“Put your head down between your knees,” the doctor told Kaley with little sympathy as he grabbed his prescription pad and began scratching something on it. “Our pharmacy across the skywalk can supply you with a pair of child-size dark glasses immediately, the kind that tie around the baby’s head. No need to be distraught. Many people with this condition live to an almost normal life expectancy, provided they use extreme caution.”

Life expectancy? Kaley wanted to clamp her hands over her ears, squeeze her eyes shut, and will this awful doctor and his miserable diagnosis away forever. Just when the medical community had finally gotten to the bottom of their baby’s symptoms, just as she and Mark believed hope of a cure was within grasp, just when they were anticipating sharing the good news with everyone, all had come crashing down in two minutes.

“If…if I understand you correctly,” she stammered, “not only will our boy never get to play outdoors but you’re saying his life will be cut short too?”

How could she be having this conversation, and why, oh why, hadn’t she insisted on Mark coming with them to the appointment like he’d offered? Grabbing the handle of Tommy’s baby carrier with one hand and the prescription slip with the other, Kaley stormed out of the doctor’s office and across the glass enclosed bridge to the pharmacy.

Fighting tears while she placed the tiny sunglasses on Tommy’s head, she felt relief at the sound of Mark’s ringtone and the vibration of the phone in her pocket. Even in his shock over her news, Mark managed to speak words that calmed Kaley and filled her with hope—just like he always did.

“Don’t think for one second that we can’t get through this together, Sweetheart, no matter how difficult it becomes. Challenges are part of life just as much as good times, and we signed up to face both—as a team. Best part of it is, now that we have Tommy, we’re a team of three instead of only two.”

A heavy cloak of despair lifted off Kaley’s shoulders and she knew that when she pulled into their driveway, Mark Kincaid—her husband of six months and Tommy’s proud stepfather—would be waiting for them with open arms, eager to form a circle of love and light that no diagnosis, no darkness, no doctors, could ever dissolve.

A Kitty's Tale

It’s time for a little fun, aka my annual acrostic story for your reading enjoyment. (To refresh your memory, an acrostic story is twenty-six sentences long, each starting with the next letter of the alphabet, in order.) This year’s requirement was to start with the words, “Always curious…”

My story did not win, but it did receive an honorable mention. I’m happy to share it with you here.

Always curious, Xerox stuck her nose into the empty cereal box I’d placed on the kitchen floor for her. Before I could count to three, her entire body had disappeared inside, and as I rushed around with my morning coffee, the cereal box eventually stopped moving and began emitting a soft purring sound. Cats are hilarious, and Xerox—so named because she was an exact duplicate of her mother—had me smitten from the moment my friend Kathy introduced her to me three months ago.

Distracted by my assignment to write a good-news story about a local business, I grabbed my bag and headed off to work, hollering “goodbye Hon, have a good day” over my shoulder to my husband Quinn.

Evening had arrived by the time I returned, exhausted and still with no story to write. For once, couldn’t one of our local businesses impress me with a little “above and beyond” service?

“Great meal, Hon,” I said absent-mindedly as I finished stacking dishes in the dishwasher. “Hey, where’s Xerox? I haven’t seen her since I got home.”

Jingling her favorite mouse toy with the little bell around its neck, I turned toward the spot where I’d left the cereal box that morning.

“Kitty, kitty, kitty! Last time I saw her, she was sleeping in that—”

My cereal box was gone, and my husband’s face was suddenly the color of the concrete sidewalk.

“No. Oh no. Please don’t say it.” Quinn added two words that confirmed my worst fear. “RECYCLING DAY!”

Shouting for me to follow, Quinn ran through the back door and around to the curb where he’d wheeled out our recycling bin—complete with the cereal box—several hours earlier. The very idea that he could possibly have tossed our darling Xerox inside was too horrible for words!

“Unusual that you didn’t find the empty cereal box a tad on the heavy side, don’t you think?” Vindication was already forming in my heart as sarcasm dripped from my lips. “What on earth were you thinking? Xerox will be long gone by now!”

“You would think so, but look at this,” Quinn chuckled as he reached into the deep bin and pulled out the meowing kitten.

Zeus’s Zero-waste Recycling Company had provided my good-news story by taking everything else and leaving in the bottom of the bin a small bowl of water, a scrap of fabric, and an unruffled kitten who looked up at me like she’d planned the whole event solely for my benefit.