It was over 80 degrees in our Hollywood bungalow when my mother opened the door to our O’Keefe and Merritt oven, turned on the gas, and stuck in her head. If she’d had a car, she could’ve driven down Sunset through the cooling hills, and walked into the ocean. Maybe then, she would’ve changed her mind. I was four.
I don’t think much about my mother anymore, almost never dream about her, but when I do, she’s sitting in a scratchy red chair, its high-low pattern swirling into roses. I’m on her bony lap, my fingers tracing the maze along the chair’s upholstered arm. Her hands hang empty over the sides. Sometimes I feel a sigh riffle my hair.
The dream comes again tonight, jolting me awake, sucking me down. It’s all there, the sky darkening outside the bungalow, the prickle of the red chair against my arm, the smell of sugar and Maxwell House coffee on my mother’s breath. Then bits and pieces of yesterday crowd in. The stranger in her black linen suit, the slammed door, the scrawled note, the gray floorboards of the porch turning to muck. Can’t run. Can’t breathe. Dry kernels blow through my lips.
I wake up sweating, legs tangled in sheets, eyes gritty, my tongue darting around my empty mouth. I feel vacuum-packed, my senses jammed together like frozen succotash, the slightly stale air of the Tiki Palms seeping into my brain. I rattle my head and the nightmare morphs into wall, drape, broken mini-blinds.
Reporters know about my mother’s suicide. Even back in 1954, camera guys and reporters were at the bungalow before the cop cars cooled down. It was a television first, like Kathy Fiscus falling in a well a couple of years before. A media phenomenon on a par with the quiz show scandals. Juicier because my mother was the Palm Springs “Bikini Girl”. So yesterday’s stranger had to be a reporter from “Access Hollywood” or some docudrama like “Sex Kitten Suicide” and so I told her to get her scandal-hawking ass off my porch.
The gasoline receipt is a loose wrinkled ball on my nightstand. Even in the dim morning light, I can see her vague handwritten message leaching through. Maybe I should call this stranger. Ask her what she really wants.
Forget it. She’s a fake, a hack. And if she isn’t, the past is past. I roll over. Give the paper my back.
But what if–
DON’T. Focus on today. Chapter five, the grocery store, those convoluted student essays. Maybe a shower. Get back to normal. My new normal now that I’ve left my husband to write a book.
Except.
Yesterday unreels itself against my eyelids.
Phoenix barks in the side yard. Me in sloppy sweats, slamming the front door of the house where I’m supposed to live, but don’t, loaded down with clothes, still damp because I’ve grabbed them from the washer, suddenly interested in escape, not dry socks. And then… then… the slip of paper. Floating from the door jamb onto the porch. Settling, thin and persistent, at my feet.
I shiver. Goose bumps pop along my arms as I watch the moment unfold, even now, warm in my bed.
If only I’d used the washing machine here at the Tiki Palms instead of going home to my Whirlpool, the woman wouldn’t have found me. Wouldn’t have lured me back into the past with a few hastily written words. But she did.
After she took off in her Volvo, I went upstairs to the closet in my old bedroom, set the step-ladder against my abandoned clothing, and climbed. From high on a shelf, I grabbed a plastic container full of memorabilia, but it was heavier than I thought, jerking itself out of my hands, hitting the floor on its corner, breaking apart.
I clambered down and started throwing things back into the box, stories I’d written as a child, report cards, a couple of yellowed newspaper articles, and my mother’s thick crystal bracelet. Then I spied the photograph tumbled against my ratty tennis shoes. I reached for the stained rectangle of board, a washed-out “Lorenzo of Hollywood” stamped on the back.
I don’t want to think about my mother and certainly not that stranger in her impeccable black linen suit.
I need to get up.
I need caffeine.
I yank myself out of bed, my teeth throbbing from last night’s pancakes, heavy on the maple syrup. I’ll purge today, drink plenty of liquids. No coffee, just tea. Green tea. Broth. And lots of water. I won’t go out. I’ll write. Do what I moved here to do.
The bathroom mirror reveals two crescent-shaped cuts along my hairline. I thought I’d stopped digging into skin at night. I grab my tooth brush, unscrew the Crest, but can’t resist the mirror. A brown-eyed, plainer version of my mother stares back. I have her shapely nose, her long smooth jaw, her strawberry blond hair. But I don’t have her aqua-blue swimming pool eyes, and I don’t have her freckles.
In the living room, I snatch the lid from the plastic box I brought from home last night and pull out the photograph. Movie starlet Virginia Gifford and little girl Abbie sit in the red chair. My profile tilts toward my mother’s freckled face. But she’s looking away, into the distance, a startled, expectant angle to her head as if she’s waiting for someone. Someone other than me.
I have to call her.
On the edge of my bed, I smooth the gas receipt, grab the phone quick before I change my mind. The ring is muffled, breaking, reluctant. My hand sweats, my eyes riveted on what the woman has scrawled just below her telephone number:
Your mother is my mother.
What will I say to her?
I don’t believe it. How can I? No way.
Or something like, your freckles don’t mean a damn thing.
“Stranger on the Porch” is adapted from Gay Degani’s longer work-in-progress called What Came Before.
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62 Responses to “STRANGER ON THE PORCH • by Gay Degani”
Comments
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September 12th, 2008 at 12:36 am
Haunting. I want an autographed copy of the novel.
September 12th, 2008 at 1:25 am
Terrific writing, Gay. Such a compelling opening to a novel but it also works as one of those short stories that stick in your head. I’ll be wondering about this pair for ages and whether she calls and what happens if she does, or doesn’t. Apart from anything else, the writing is tremendous:
“Then bits and pieces of yesterday crowd in. The stranger in her black linen suit, the slammed door, the scrawled note, the gray floorboards of the porch turning to muck. Can’t run. Can’t breathe. Dry kernels blow through my lips.”
Simply the best thing I’ve read online in ages. Congratulations – this rocks. Five stars only because I can’t give it ten.
September 12th, 2008 at 4:49 am
This was amazing. The imagery and the wealth of information in such a small amount of space. Hats off to you, Gay! Thanks for making my morning – and for writing that inspires others to better their writing as well (at least it did for me.)
September 12th, 2008 at 4:49 am
yeah, this is a cut above. well done.
September 12th, 2008 at 5:04 am
Truly, Gay, the depth and ease of description in this piece makes it one of your very best and I, like the ohters, would like to read the novel. 5 from me too.
September 12th, 2008 at 5:39 am
Beautifully written, pace, depth – a wonderful start to a novel. But for me, and I realise this won’t be popular (!), this was not flash, as it raised too many questions I want answering, now! But the writing is so good.
September 12th, 2008 at 6:14 am
Loved it! Awesome, terrific, haunting. I look forward to that novel.
September 12th, 2008 at 6:15 am
beautiful, bone chilling, excellent detail.This just shines Gay! Thank you.
September 12th, 2008 at 6:27 am
This read like a fast paced movie! Awesome! Gave me the shivers!
September 12th, 2008 at 6:55 am
Yes, great writing. Very well done.
September 12th, 2008 at 7:23 am
Thank you guys!!! I am so thrilled that this is having a good reaction. The novel has been written to the end but I have been struggling with the revisions. THIS is exactly the boost I need. Thank to all of you.
September 12th, 2008 at 7:36 am
This is an incredibly strong story, resting initially on the haunting imagery and then being supported by intimations from the stranger. You’ve captured your characters in a minimum number of well-chosen words–80 degrees out with the oven on, crescent-shapped cuts in the forehead, the message on the gas receipt. It’s the sort of piece I wish would go on and on. Five stars!
September 12th, 2008 at 7:37 am
How very sad. Tell me the novel has a happy ending.
September 12th, 2008 at 8:56 am
FIVE!!!!!!!
Holy Guacamole, Gay! Brilliant, awesome, gripping, meaningful, surprising, excellent, gorgeous, haunting, beautiful…. I’m searching for words to describe how great this is. GREAT.
You rock.
September 12th, 2008 at 9:11 am
Wonderful, Gay! You have an amazing way with words/turns of phrases that make images stand out in a new or more complex way. The opening is powerful and to the point – sucked me right in.
I am so glad this is part of a longer work. Can’t wait to see what happens… Any hints???
September 12th, 2008 at 9:20 am
Wow, Gay. Truly impressive. I loved the descriptions… your use of brand names set the scene so well, and without unnecessary words. The piece was so strongly written that it felt much longer than it actually was.
Good luck with those novel revisions! I want to buy a copy of it someday!
September 12th, 2008 at 9:35 am
mom-
this is excellent. i vaguely remember reading the first version, but this one takes the cake!
September 12th, 2008 at 9:57 am
I love the anxiety that pulsates directly off the character and penetrates the reader! Great craftsmanship. Ellen
September 12th, 2008 at 10:16 am
You never let me down, Gay.
Fabulous! An easy 5*****.
I was right there.
–dj
September 12th, 2008 at 10:24 am
Amazing. Previous drafts seemed “done” to me at the time, but now I know why you obsess over every word. If you had any question as to the strength of your opening, it should be settled now. Keep going, girlfriend!!!
September 12th, 2008 at 11:17 am
I always get a thrill of anticipation when I see a story by Gay, but this one is amazing. I will definitely watch for your novel Gay, and thanks for a great read.
September 12th, 2008 at 11:18 am
The opening hooked me in. I like this story. Keep up the good work! 5 stars!
September 12th, 2008 at 12:19 pm
Great job, Gay! 5 Stars from me! I also thoroughly enjoyed “Leaving Slackerland” in the Sisters in Cime/LA anthology “LAndmarked for Murder.” Small wonder it was selected as the lead story.
It was also nice to meet you at the booksigning we did for the anthology. Here’s to another inclusion.
Dee Ann Palmer
http://www.deeannpalmer.com
“Marathon Madness” in “LAndmarked for Murder.”
September 12th, 2008 at 12:24 pm
Very nice work.
One of the best I’ve read here.
Your descriptions and reveals were on-target all the way.
5 stars from me.
September 12th, 2008 at 12:37 pm
This story clicks right away with reality…like such little details as tracing the pattern on the chair like we all did as kids.
This story was so realistic yet so unfathomably awesome.
A rival to string melt maybe?
September 12th, 2008 at 12:38 pm
i meant to say “spring melt”
string doesnt melt
September 12th, 2008 at 12:41 pm
You do such a great job getting inside people’s heads.
Few words, powerful images.
September 12th, 2008 at 2:50 pm
Gay, Now I can’t wait to read the novel!!! Hurry up and finish it. Betsy
September 12th, 2008 at 3:32 pm
I LOVE A GOOD MYSTERY, CAN’T WAIT TO READ THE REST….KEEP WRITING…….
September 12th, 2008 at 4:59 pm
Gay. You the best.
September 12th, 2008 at 5:00 pm
You go girl!
September 12th, 2008 at 5:51 pm
Thanks everyone. I’m blown away. I don’t know what else to say, but I’d better get to work!
September 12th, 2008 at 6:03 pm
Absolutely flawless! Great as a short story but I am so glad there is a book to follow. I was sitting on the edge of my seat.
September 12th, 2008 at 6:16 pm
“Yesterday unreels itself against my eyelids”. What!?! Were you in my therapy session? Marvelous!! The flow and imagery of the language is absolutely wonderful to read. I want more. Five stars!!
September 12th, 2008 at 7:32 pm
Dear Gay: What a talent to pull in the reader. I already care for your character; can’t wait to read more.
September 12th, 2008 at 9:01 pm
Another great story. Each one gets better than the last. I look forward to each story you write and am honored to be on your list. I feel important knowing a will be famous author!!
September 12th, 2008 at 9:08 pm
Gay, like my lil sis always say, ‘Your awesomeness prevails!’
September 13th, 2008 at 8:25 am
Gay, absolutely beautiful.
September 13th, 2008 at 10:13 am
It’s really good, Gay. I can’t wait to read it in its entirety! Get ‘er done!
September 13th, 2008 at 11:40 am
Gay, this is superb. Crisp and beautifully woven words. A real delight to read. One of the best stories I’ve read on this site. Thank you.
September 13th, 2008 at 4:37 pm
I waited until today to read your story because I knew I’d want to savor each delicious phrase and sentence. Then the story gripped me and I rushed through the reading because I had to know the ending! Of course, there is so much to follow: An entire novel! Fantastic job!!!!!
September 14th, 2008 at 9:35 am
The detail in this is astounding, it draws you in, makes you a part of the scene. Lovely, Gay.
September 14th, 2008 at 10:51 am
Found it intriguing.
September 14th, 2008 at 4:46 pm
Gay, you grabbed me from the start…Can’t wait to read the entire novel.
September 15th, 2008 at 2:20 am
a strong and subtle piece, the writing as ever is fluent and full of sparking detail. Great.
September 15th, 2008 at 9:19 am
Brilliant writing Gay! Your imagery is powerful and will stick in my head all day. Can’t wait to read the novel.
September 15th, 2008 at 6:29 pm
Gay, you whet my appetite and then ——! Finish this book and quit doing a zillion other projects!!! I can’t wait to read the rest. As usual, you capture the moment and keep the interest going. Luv ya. Mama D
September 16th, 2008 at 10:16 am
A great beginning and another great story by the author. Love the imagery – the smell of sugar and maxwell house -really makes me feel the woman you describe.
September 16th, 2008 at 12:46 pm
A vivid opening with an all-too-haunting familiarity to it. Great job.
September 16th, 2008 at 1:57 pm
i want to keep reading…please tell me there’s more.
September 16th, 2008 at 5:51 pm
Gay, you have a unique ability to tell a story that not only haunts but constantly “sets the hook” paragraph to paragraph.
We’re way beyond “well done!’.
September 18th, 2008 at 1:01 pm
Your story was Awesome!!!!!
September 18th, 2008 at 3:33 pm
This is an excellent piece of writing. As others have commented, it is a haunting except–in a good way. Will look forward to reading that you have to offer.
September 20th, 2008 at 3:04 pm
More great writing. When do we get to read the rest of the novel?? June
September 20th, 2008 at 3:49 pm
Imagery like “my senses jammed together like frozen succotash” made me feel like I WAS Abbie waking up after her disquieting dream. My own mother tried to commit suicide, and although she failed at that, I nevertheless had the feeling that she was forever “waiting for someone. Someone other than me.” The mother/daughter relationship (healthy or not) is rife with material for a good writer, and Gay is clearly mining that relationship and discovering literary gems. Excellent work. I give it a five and can’t wait to read the novel.
September 21st, 2008 at 11:39 am
Gay you have done it again, that was a great display of visual appeal, as always, I really enjoy reading your creations…
September 27th, 2008 at 9:26 am
Best one yet!
October 9th, 2008 at 1:59 pm
I just eat stories like this up! You have awesome talent in your pen…continue, please continue!
Cuz
January 16th, 2009 at 1:58 pm
Excellent writing! The opening drew me in, and I wanted to keep reading. When do I get to see the entire novel.
A definite must read!
February 11th, 2009 at 6:52 am
WOW! This is brilliant, Gay! Very literary writing, stunning in its depth and feeling. I, too, want to read this book when it’s published, and it will be.
One of the best pieces of serious literary writing I’ve read in a long, long time.
Finish the novel. Do it.
February 12th, 2009 at 8:18 am
I somehow forgot to come back here. Didn’t realise there were so many nice comments about this story. Whoa baby. I gotta get myself in gear! Thank you thank you. You guys will never know how much this means to me. g
July 23rd, 2009 at 7:52 am
It makes me want to read MORE. There is a whole world here I would like to unearth. Found myself especially interested in the former bikini girl mother. And liked the detail about the main character digging at her skin, the little crescents. Great stuff!