Assignment for my creative writing class, see this post for context!
Day 2, 9/24/19 Daily writing prompt: “Two lies and a truth” Assignment: 3 stories - 2 fiction, 1 non-fiction. Have fun writing these stories with lots of vivid details. Try to transport us there so that each paragraph feels true, and we have a hard time guessing which is the real one.
Story 1:
I’ve only had one celebrity encounter. My good friend George and I flew down to Southern California for a visit to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Before our day at the theme park began, we went to grab brunch from a Yelp-recommended restaurant. I don’t recall the name. We stood out in the bright Los Angeles sunshine waiting for our table, I remember the glare was so bright that I had to squint my eyes. I didn’t have my sunglasses on me because they didn’t go with my outfit. Being the nerd I am, I was wearing my handmade Hogwarts student uniform, proudly showcasing my Ravenclaw colors in preparation for the Harry Potter festivities later that day.
While blocking my eyes from the intense golden light, I felt someone’s cold arm brush against me while they pushed past me to get to the hostess. She was a brunette woman, of slight frame, wearing enormous bug-like sunglasses (I was jealous that her eyes bore such effective protection) and Lululemon yoga pants. She looked a little damp, the fine hair around her face was beaded with sweat. I assumed she had just come from a pilates class. The rest of the brunch crowd was twittering, the rustle of their whispers rising up around me. I didn’t quite catch on right away.
This tiny woman cast her gaze around, surveying the crowd and doing the mental calculus of determining if the wait was worth her while. Flinging her ponytail to the wind, she called out to her dining companion, “It’s too crowded, there won’t be any patio seats available, let’s try somewhere else!” And they were off in a cloud of expensive perfume. My brain was piecing something together, and it finally clicked. I turned to George, “Wait, was that – ?” and a woman next to me continued “PATRICIA HEATON! From Everybody Loves Raymond! Right?! Yep! I am pretty sure!”
Story 2:
I remember the day my baby sister was born. At least, I think I do. They say that memories are malleable, that it’s nearly impossible for us to decipher which of our memories are real, and which are stories we’ve been told and have then adopted for ourselves, stitching them seamlessly into our minds eye.
I was in my favorite pink romper. I liked it because it was super soft, but more importantly, it was festooned with bunnies. It was fall by then, and there was a crispness to the air. The wind had some bite to it when it blew past my ears. My aunt June had tried to get me to put on a coat before I went outside because it wasn’t really romper weather anymore, but I had refused, squirmed so much that she gave up. I was crouched in the grass, which was half brown by this time, yellowing in time with the changing of the leaves. I was on a mission to search for bugs. For what reason, I couldn’t tell you.
I remember concentrating on each patch of grass with intense scrutiny, my little toddler fingers spreading deliberately between the green and brown blades. The New Mexico sunshine, which normally blazes bright and hot regardless of season, was muted that day due to the gray clouds that hovered on the horizon. This made finding the bugs more challenging, but I was already stubborn at that age. My aunt June called out to me, “Jessica! Come inside! We have someone for you to meet!” I looked up towards the house, my gaze shifting reluctantly from the myopic view of the ground. I saw that my mom was home, and she was standing in the doorway of our back deck, carrying a squirming bundle in her arms.
Story 3:
I have interviewed for many jobs at this point in my adult life, but one experience comes to mind. It was for my first job out of law school. I graduated earlier that year in June, and spent the summer studying for the bar exam. I needed to find a job while I waited to get the exam results, and I was sorely in need of cash. I was kind of desperate. Since I couldn’t get a job as an attorney until I received my license, I turned to a temp agency to find a job that could tide me over until then. The temp agency had sent me on an interview with a financial consulting firm in San Francisco, they needed a receptionist who could man the front desk, answer the phone and direct phone calls, and order lunch.
I arrived at the imposing concrete skyscraper on California street, and took the ear-popping escalator ride up to the 34th floor. I was wearing one of my cheap suits that I had purchased from H&M for one of my many past law school internships/clerkships. I remember that the lining material was scratchy, and that it left the tops of my bare shoulders (I was wearing a sleeveless blouse underneath the suit jacket) red and irritated. I tried to ignore my discomfort, and pasted what I hoped was a confident smile on my face.
A man who introduced himself as Steve met me at the front desk. He was tall, imposing, and his hand was so large that it enveloped mine almost completely when he extended it for a hand-shake. He dressed casually in khakis and a button down, but I could tell that his outfit was rich in a low-key way. His watch gleamed, his shoes had nary a scuff, and I was willing to bet his belt cost more than all of my cheap suits in my closet combined. He asked me a steady stream of questions, where I went to school, why I was looking for a temporary job. His hand rubbed his jawline, which was covered in second day stubble. I found the sandpaper scraping sound to be annoying, but tried to act nonplussed as I answered his questions in what I hoped was an enthusiastic and cheerful manner.
I really needed this job, my student loan money had run out, and I had to take out an additional private loan to float me while I was studying for the bar. Unfortunately, that revenue stream had also dwindled away to almost nothing. I got distracted, trying to figure out if I had the money to both pay my rent AND my electric bill that month, when I realized that Steve was looking at me expectantly. “Wha-what? I mean, pardon?” I stammered, realizing that he had asked me a question which I clearly had missed. “Does that sound ok, I said? Can you start Monday, 9 AM?” Steve asked, looking slightly bemused. I heaved a sigh of relief, “Yes, I definitely can do that, thank you for the opportunity!” I replied. Thank god, I thought to myself. I was gonna be ok.