Anticipating Nothing: When the Writing Answer Has Been There All Along

 

Okay ... so many of you are likely aware of the I've been writing this story. Said story started as a screenplay. Said story then began to take form of a longer than short story after I lived in Belfast. However, parts still aren't quite right. And the ending still eludes me. 

A few days ago - a song pops into my head when walking to the train. Nothing by Depeche Mode

What am I trying to do?

What am I trying to say?

I'm not trying to tell you anything

You didn't know when you woke up today

Sitting target

Sitting praying

God is saying

Nothing

Depeche Mode has inspired another story with their words (those characters got an ending, by the way. See Red Square Dawn for their story). Today, for whatever reason, this song made the synapses transmit a memory of this story to my neurons, which in turn said - you finally have the answer to that third scene. 

I needed character tension, some allusion to possible romantic feelings, and also the underlying feeling that there is an unspoken trust and bond between these two. 

If you'd like to continue - let me set the stage. Abbi Connolly is home in West Belfast after a very long evening at the emergency department where she works as a nurse. She is visited by her long-time best friend, Liam. I kept on trying to make them have this important and cryptic conversation about David, Abbi's husband. I could never find the words. 

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

It’s almost midnight as Abbi sits at the table in an almost dark kitchen trying to read about advances in spinal trauma. She squints, shakes her head, rubs her eyes, and flips back to the previous page of the article the head doctor of the emergency department gave all of the nurses to read. As she begins the first paragraph for the third time, she hears steps on the back porch. Two knocks and the door opens. Liam always appears to be in some state of dishevelment and always with a book in his hand. His black eyes and the wild mop of black hair suit the man who thankfully outgrew his shyness. 

            “Abigail,” he says to her quietly.

            “Liam,” Abbi greets him with a relaxed smile as she slides the article aside. 

            “Beer?” He asks as he’s already removed two cold bottles from the refrigerator and popped the caps onto the counter.

            Abbi shakes her head yes as Liam slides a chair closer to her, hands her the beer, and places his notebook on the table. “I knew David would be late tonight.”

            “What are you hearing? Are the peace talks fallin’ apart Liam?” Abbi rubs her eyes before taking a drink of beer. Today’s attack on the British soldiers is so far the pinnacle of tension between the Irish Republicans and the Loyalists.

            “Yer, askin’ me? Your own bloody husband is sittin’ in those secret talks I hear about on the BBC and yer askin’ me?” Liam gulps down his beer.

            “You know he doesn’t tell me a thing and apparently you don’t either, mister newspaper writer.” Abbi smiles before taking a drink. “You’re both bloody worthless.”  

            Liam puts his beer down and motions for Abbi to lean in towards him. Hesitantly, but also sarcastically, she leans towards Liam. 

            "Journalist," he whispers to her. 

            She laughs and whispers back. "A bloody worthless journalist."

            Bobby, who was in bed, patters into the kitchen. “Mommy,” he says quietly as climbs into Liam’s lap.

            “I thought you were sleeping little man.” Liam wraps his arms around his godson.

            “Do you want me to read you a story?” Abbi removes the single sock remaining on her son’s feet.

            He quietly says, “No. Liam,” and puts his head on Liam’s chest.

             Abbi smiles at both of them.

            Liam leans forward with Bobby. “How about a kiss for yer ma?”

            Bobby gives Abbi a kiss and a gentle pat on her face. Abbi gently takes his hand and gives it a kiss before Liam stands with his godson. They leave the room chatting about giants. 

            Abbi takes a long sip of her beer, stands, walks to the counter, and turns on the radio. She opens the refrigerator to look for something to snack on, tossing a few things in the garbage in the process. Her head lost in her thoughts and in the vegetable drawer, she doesn’t hear Liam come back downstairs until he turns up the radio.

            “Jesus,” she hits her head off a shelf.

            “Sorry. He’s sound asleep again.”

             “Hungry? How do you feel about leftover Chinese?” Before she turns around, she feels Liam’s presence very close to her. “Liam?" She turns to find see him standing directly behind her. He places his hand on her arm, letting it linger a few seconds before taking a step back.

             Abbi takes another two beers from the refrigerator, pops the caps off, and walks past Liam towards the table. When she sits, she takes a long drink of the beer as Liam makes his way to the other chair. He sits and slides his chair closer to Abbi.

            Abbi slides her shirt sleeves over her hands and then leans onto the table, crossing her arms. She tilts her head slightly. “What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until,” she pauses and looks at the clock before looking back at him, “six hours from now when you’re here having breakfast?”

            He runs his hand nervously through his unwieldy hair. “Em...nothing." He taps his knuckle on his ever-present book.

        She sits disappointed by her own anticipation. Bad news, a rumor, the need to pass along information, Abbi almost looks embarrassed as she holds back a bemused smile. Nervously, she starts to flip through the book Liam put on the table. 

            "Who is Ted Sorensen?" She sits back and begins to read some of the pages. 

           Liam excitedly smiles, "President Kennedy's advisor. I just sometimes need to read something other than ... well, about here." 

            Abbi's smile turns into a laugh as Liam goes on about Kennedy's advisor. She should be checking the doors, making sure Bobby is safe asleep, and headed to bed herself. But sometimes, nothing is better.