Writing Workshop - Dialogue Spring 2006

Participants:

Elnariel Lasvereth, el706 "Memory of a Voice"
Hermione Pena, he101 "Coffee and Horoscopes"
Jessica Summers, je641 "All In Preparation For Nationals"
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All In Preparation For Nationals by Jessica Summers

It was a beautiful Sunday morning at Seigaku Junior High School. The sun was shining brightly on the school’s tennis courts as six of the regulars practiced, hitting the ball back and forth and trying to perfect their special moves. Even with the sweat rolling down their foreheads, each swing taking a large amount of energy out of them, they all continued to play. They had a big match coming up, one that would decide if they would go to Japan’s national tournament for tennis. Usually when this big of a match was so soon, they would all be excited and loud, shouting their thoughts about how fun the match will be over the grunts of those hitting the ball. Today was different. The courts were completely quiet. They were all silent today partly because talking would cause them to lose more energy in the blazing heat but also because each and every one of them was trying to listen to the conversation taking place on the steps of the school.
“Buchou!” Ryoma Echizen shouted at his senpai. Kunimitsu Tezuka continued to sit on the steps, staring at the cars driving past on the street in front of Seigaku.
“Don’t talk to me in that tone, Echizen,” Tezuka said after a few minutes.
“Tezuka-senpai!” Echizen shouted, completely ignoring Tezuka’s command. Tezuka stood up. Echizen noticed that his eyes were different. Was it anger that filled them or sadness? Echizen could not tell but quite frankly, he didn’t care. He shouted Tezuka’s name again.
“Echizen!” Tezuka roared. Echizen, surprised by this outburst, took a step backwards. He would have gone flying down the flight of stairs but the captain grabbed his arm and roughly pulled him back up.
“Thank you,” Echizen mumbled. He was obviously still very angry with Tezuka, though.
“Now, Echizen,” Tezuka began.
“Stop talking to me like I’m a child!” the younger student replied in a furious tone. Tezuka raised his hand and slapped Echizen across the face. Hard. Echizen collapsed to the ground and his cap went flying off of his head and down the steps into the street where a large red truck ran over it. Echizen cringed at the sight of his precious hat, the one that was almost always on his head, with tire marks all over it.
Meanwhile, back at the tennis courts, they had all heard the sound of a hand across a face. They stopped playing tennis immediately, their rackets dropped to their sides and the balls rolling on the ground. They all turned to Oishi, the vice-captain and “mother” of the Seigaku boy’s tennis team. If he wasn’t going to interfere with this rare fight between two regulars, they all knew it was worthless if they did. Oishi’s face was filled with extreme worry, even more than usual, but he did not move from his spot.
“It couldn’t have been Tezuka slapping Echizen,” he assured the team although he didn’t completely believe it himself.
“Maybe it wasn’t,” Kaidoh said in his deep voice.
“Yeah,” Kikumaru said, nodding in agreement with Kaidoh. “Maybe Ochibi slapped Tezuka!” His face seemed to brighten at the thought. Fuji grinned a little at his idea but stopped when he remembered what would happen if that was true; Echizen would be in big trouble.
“Eiji!” Oishi reprimanded his doubles partner who just shrugged and went back to playing tennis as did everyone else on the team.
“What if Echizen did slap Buchou?” Momo wondered aloud as he hit the ball to his tensai senpai, Fuji.
“Then I would say we’re never going to make it to Nationals because Echizen would be kicked off the team,” he answered his own question.
“Baka,” Kaidoh hissed. The regulars all saw it coming, Kaidoh calling Momo an idiot and then the fight, but they were all too tired and too much in thought about Echizen and Tezuka to try to stop it. “Stop being so loud. And Ryuzaki-sensei and Buchou couldn’t ever kick Echizen off the team.”
“You wanna fight, Mamushi?” Momo shouted across the court and the two rivals went on fighting until Eiji had enough sense to stop them. They all went back to tennis in silence, all thinking to themselves the odds of Echizen being allowed to be kicked off the team and how devastating it would be if he was kicked off.
Echizen glared up at Tezuka, his eyes filled with hate. Tezuka looked down at Echizen, his eyes not showing any emotion at all. Tezuka turned around and began to head back to the tennis courts.
Echizen sprung up from the ground. “Buchou!” he yelled to Tezuka. Tezuka turned slowly to Echizen.
“I will play you, Echizen,” Tezuka said. Echizen’s mouth dropped in surprise. That entire fight had been because Echizen thought that Tezuka was refusing to play him in a match. “Until then,” Tezuka continued, “don’t let your guard down.”

Coffee and Horoscopes by Hermione Pena

Twenty-six year old Lorelai Gilmore rushed into the diner. She’d never been inside before, usually getting her coffee fix from the Independence Inn (where she worked) to save money. However, that day she had had several errands to attend to in town after dropping Rory off at school, and now had a coffee craving too big to ignore.

A bell above the door rang as she entered, and she looked around at her new surroundings. The owner could definitely use some decorating tips, the walls badly needed a new paint job (or in some spots to be painted at all), and Lorelai now understood why the outside had a large sign declaring the location “Williams Hardware.” Though it was clearly a diner now, old roots could still be seen.

Seeing that all the tables were full of town members, very few of which she recognized as her outings weren’t frequent, she made her way towards the counter and sat on one of the stools. Attempting to ignore her craving for the moment, she picked up a menu and glanced through it. It almost worked, until her eyes scanned over the “Beverages” section, and she was forcefully reminded of her reason for entering in the first place.

Glancing around, no workers were in sight, and she wondered why the place was so crowded if the service apparently sucked. On the other side of the counter she could see the full coffee pot, cups stacked beside it, and she was tempted to stand up and just pour it herself. But before she could make a move, a harassed looking man came out of the kitchen holding multiple plates of food in each hand. He was wearing a backwards baseball cap that had seen better days, and a blue flannel shirt.

“Hey, can I have a --,” Lorelai began.

“Wait your turn,” he muttered, taking the plates to a table, then moving to another to take their order.

Not in the mood to sit and wait any longer (as it was a near miracle she’d waited that long to start with), Lorelai followed and stood directly behind him.

“Anything to drink?” he asked the man at the table.

“Yes, actually, you wouldn’t believe how badly I’m craving some coffee right now,” Lorelai answered.

“Jeez, don’t do that!” flannel man exclaimed, turning to look at her. “Can’t you see I’m busy? What do you want, Kirk?” he again asked the man.

“Sprite. It’s caffeine free, right? I’ve already had a Coke today, and Mother won’t be happy if I have another.”

“Sprite it is,” he said, making a note on his pad of paper and heading back to the counter.

“And did you get my coffee order?” Lorelai asked, still following. “Because really, you don’t want to see me without my coffee. It’s my lifeline. I never go a day without coffee. I only had two cups this morning, and that was hours ago, and I really really really need some now.”

He turned again to face her.

“Sit down, shut up, and I’ll get to you when I get to you.”

Lorelai frowned, sat, and looked around. Kirk, who’s order the man had just taken, was reading a newspaper. Grinning again, Lorelai quickly went over to him.

“Hey, Kirk, right?”

He looked up.

“That’s me.”

“Can I borrow a section of your paper?”

He paused a moment before answering.

“Just don’t take the funnies.”

“Got it, no funnies.” She quickly searched for what she was looking for, then handed the rest back to him. “Thanks!”

A brief glance told her the flannel man was across the room serving another group, and she was by his side in seconds.

“When’s your birthday?”

“What?”

“When’s your birthday?”

“Why do you want to know?” He went back to the kitchen to pick up food, and Lorelai followed the whole way.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because you have no need to know.”

“Ah, but I do have a need.”

“What is it?”

“Why should I tell you? You won’t tell me your birthday.”

“Because you don’t need to know.”

“Yes I do.”

He rolled his eyes, clearly frustrated with the conversation.

“November fifth,” he finally answered.

She turned without responding and sat back down at the counter. Opening the newspaper section, she found his corresponding horoscope and carefully ripped it out. After finding a pen in her purse, she wrote a quick message on it, then rushed back to his side.

“Read,” she demanded, sticking it in his face.

He brushed her arm away, and continued to write down another customer’s order.

“Oh, come on,” she said, “it’s not a book, it’ll take you seconds to read. Read it and get it over with, or put up with me following you around until I faint from caffeine withdrawal.”

Apparently he saw her point because he took the scrap of paper from her.

“You will meet an annoying woman today,” he read. “Give her coffee and she will go away.”

He looked back up at Lorelai, who was smiling widely.

“Isn’t it amazing how accurate those horoscopes are now?” she asked. “Plus, I hear if you stick them in your wallet, they’ll bring you good luck.”

Giving in to defeat, he walked behind the counter and poured her a cup of coffee.

“That stuff will kill you someday,” he said as he handed it over.

“And I’ll die if I don’t have it, didn’t you hear me mention I’d faint from caffeine withdrawal, and that’s just the start of what would happen…wow, that’s good coffee!” She took another gulp, then sighed deeply.

“I think I’ve found my new coffee source.”

“I thought the horoscope said you’d go away.”
“Hey now, they’re not perfect,” she said with a shrug. She took another large drink, looked at her watch, and nearly spit it out. Muttering under her breath about time flying by, she took one more swallow, then left her still half full cup of coffee on the counter and headed for the door.

“Leaving already?” flannel man asked, nonplused, as he glanced up from refilling another customer’s soda.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be back!” Lorelai said over her shoulder, the bell over the door ringing once more as she exited.

Half an hour later, flannel man, more commonly known to the town as Luke Danes, looked up from behind the counter to see her returning, this time with a young girl beside her. Though the rush was gone and many tables were open, Lorelai sat down in the same stool she’d been in earlier, and the girl sat beside her, her feet swinging freely. Before she could even speak, Luke placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of Lorelai.

“Well I must say, you learn fast,” she said, taking a sip.

“Just didn’t want a repeat of your earlier visit,” he said gruffly.

“When were you here before?” the young girl asked Lorelai, suddenly looking up from the menu she’d been reading.

“Just before I picked you up. Rory, this is, um,” she paused, suddenly realizing she didn’t know his name.”

“Luke,” he finished.

“Right, Luke, that makes sense, seeing as that’s the name written at the top of the menus,” Lorelai rambled, blushing slightly. “Oh, my name’s Lorelai by the way, I don’t think I ever mentioned that earlier.”

“Between your begging me for coffee and asking for my birthday, no, I don’t think you did.” He turned to leave to pick up the plates from the couple who just left, but Lorelai stopped him.

“Hey, wait a sec,” she said, reaching over and grabbing a bit of his sleeve to keep him from escaping. “Rory, what do you want?”

“Coffee please,” she answered politely, carefully setting aside the menu.

“Ah, jeez, you put her up to that, didn’t you?” Luke asked, not believing such a young kid would drink coffee.

Lorelai held up her hands in mock surrender.

“I didn’t, I swear. She drinks it.”

Luke glanced at Rory, who looked back innocently at him with her bright blue eyes.

“Come one, that stuff will stunt her growth,” he said, turning back to Lorelai. “You’re guys’ parents aren’t going to care that you’re letting her drink this stuff?”

Lorelai shrugged.

“My parents would probably care, but they won’t know,” she said evenly. “And I’m her mom, and I say it’s okay.” She paused, judging his reaction to her statement, then continued in a lighter tone, “After all, I drank it all my life, and I turned out fine!”

Luke rolled his eyes, thinking it depended on your definition of “fine.” He, for one, didn’t think someone was fine if they were dependent on caffeine, but clearly Lorelai thought otherwise. Again giving in, he poured a second cup and sat it in front of Rory.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching for the cream and sugar to add.

He grunted in response, then stepped to the side to fiddle with the broken toaster, watching Lorelai and Rory out of the corner of his eyes. He had assumed, wrongly, that they were sisters. After all, Lorelai looked no older than mid-twenties, and Rory had to be at least ten. Still, he thought to himself, it wasn’t too big of a shock. His younger sister had a kid at 17, though that had been quite a surprise at the time.

Rory carefully added her sugar and cream like an old pro (and with a coffee obsessed mom like Lorelai, she probably was), then lifted it to her lips to take a drink.

“This is good!” she exclaimed, grinning at her mom. “Even better than the stuff at the Inn. Can we come here more often?”

Lorelai gave a small smile.

“Maybe not often, but occasionally for sure. We’re still saving up money, remember?”

Rory gave a sigh, and Luke stayed where he was in front of the toaster. Though he rarely eavesdropped, he found himself curious about the two of them. He rationalized it to himself by saying he was just working on the toaster, and it just so happened he could hear what they were saying.

“I like living at the Inn,” Rory said in a small voice. “Do we have to move?”

“Honey, trust me, a few years from now and you’ll definitely be glad you have your own room. So what’d you do in school today?”

Rory immediately brightened up at the question.

“Oh! We started reading a new story in class, and I got to read out loud, and Ms. King said I did really good, and…” Rory continued talking a mile a minute, but Luke was forced to let the toaster be for now and take care of other customers that had entered.

The two Gilmore girls stayed a while longer, each taking one refill on their coffee. Luke had just given Kirk his sandwich he’d ordered (cut into triangles, as requested), and was returning to the counter when Lorelai pulled out her wallet.

“So, how much do we owe you?”

Luke shook his head, “Nothing. First time customers on the house.” Truthfully he’d never let new customers get away without paying before, but if they really were living at the Inn, he thought they needed the money more than he did.

“Darn, we should’ve ordered actual food then,” Lorelai said in mock-disappointment. She turned to Rory and said in a loud whisper, “Hey, let’s go dye our hair blond, and come back with different names.”

Rory rolled her eyes, used to her mother’s antics. “But Sookie’s cooking at the Inn tonight,” she countered.

Lorelai considered that for a moment, “Good point. Thanks for the coffee Luke,” she said, turning back to him and taking one last drink. “We’ll definitely be back.”

Mother and daughter left, and Luke picked up their cups and wiped the counter. He picked up a piece of paper by the cash register and recognized it as the horoscope that Lorelai had forced him to read earlier. Giving a short laugh, he realized that though it promised the “annoying woman” would go away, it said nothing about her not returning. Remembering what she’d said about it being lucky, he pulled out his wallet, feeling silly as he stuck it in. Everyone could use a bit of luck, right?

Memory of a Voice by Elnariel Lasvereth

The song rose over the fire with the smoke, seeming to flitter through the air towards the slowly setting sun and its bed of now rosy clouds. It was a joyous melody and the words told a story of adventures and wandering.

Several young people sat together around a merry campfire, their black tents not far away. Two of them were playing the guitar, some sang the words to the melody, others lay in the grass, simply listening and enjoying the last minutes of warm daylight.

Sari sat leant back on her hands, her eyes sweeping over the beautiful scenery surrounding her while she sang with her friends. She loved being out with the scouts. It gave her a wonderful feeling of freedom nothing else could give her.

She smiled at her older sister, Tal, who was sitting next to her boyfriend across the fire before her gaze came to rest on her younger sister, Romma. She had gathered some flowers earlier that day and was now weaving them together to a beautiful garland.

The first song ended and before the last note had died away the guitarist had already started the next. This time it was a quieter song, calm and melodious, and suddenly Sari felt her throat tightening and her voice wavered as memories returned unbidden.

Memories of a loved one, one once part of the small circle around the fire, now cruelly taken from their midst. Tears suddenly stung in her eyes and she couldn’t blink them away. She felt a sob rising from deep within her but before it could escape her lips she scrambled to her feet and hurriedly leaved the fireside.

Tal followed her sister. She knew what was the matter, knew it only too well. The song they were singing now stirred up memories as it had been one of Anja’s favourites. Anja, their friend, had died in a car accident, now almost two years ago. It had shocked them all but she and Sari had been especially close. Ever since they had gotten to know each other they had seldom been apart. Anja’s death had left a wound in Sari’s heart that still hadn’t healed completely and probably never would.

Catching Romma’s eyes both sisters rose and went to look for the third.

They found her sitting on a bench on the bank of the nearby lake, her head in her hands. Quietly they sat down next to her and Romma placed one arm around Sari’s shoulder while Tal gently took her sister’s hand in her own.

“Honey, you know that we’re always here for you,” she said in a hushed voice after some moments of silent comfort. “You don't have to hold back; it’s not going to drag us down hearing about it.” She knew her sister all too well. Sari always had an open ear for others’ problems but never felt she could confide her own, afraid of burdening her friends.

For several long moments Sari didn’t react at all and Tal almost gave up on hoping for an answer. But then, slowly and hesitantly, she lifted her bloodshot eyes to look out over the lake.

“I know.” Sari’s voice was hardly more than a hoarse whisper. “Of course I know but somehow I…I can’t. It’s really stupid; I don’t want to bother you with it.”

Tal started stroking her sister’s hand and shook her head sadly. “Well stupid or not, if it makes you sad it is important and really, it’s not a bother; if it helps speaking of it, don’t hesitate to do it. After all, that’s what sisters are for, right?”

“Besides considering my constant whining I’d say everyone is allowed stupid things,” Romma chipped in.

That at least brought a weak smile to the tear streaked face. “I was thinking of how stupid the human mind is. I…” Sari had to take a deep breath to steady her voice before she could go on. “I was thinking about Anja and how much I miss her and just now, while we were singing I noticed that I can't remember her voice anymore and that I have nothing that could remind me…” Her voice broke and new tears started running down her flushed cheeks.

Tal frowned with worry and she shared a quick look with her youngest sister. “But that's not stupid,” she said to the crying girl.

Romma tightened her hold on Sari. She knew how deeply the death of her friend had affected her sister. “Definitely not,” she said with a determined shake of her head.

But Sari was not consoled that easily. “It feels so stupid,” she choked out between sobs. “It’s just a voice. I remember her face and so many things we did together and here I am crying over a voice.” Now she sounded almost angry and her hands were balled into tight fists. She still refused to meet her sisters’ gaze.

“We understand that, honey. It’s hard to realize that you’re losing any part voice, face, anything.” Tal spoke in her best ‘big-sister-voice’. It usually had a calming effect on her two younger siblings.

Romma nodded, stroking Sari’s back soothingly. Then her eyes suddenly lit up as an idea came to her mind. “But you know what? I don’t think you lost her voice. I think you don’t remember now because you searched for it so badly; like…” she searched for the right words. “Like a word you know you know but can’t remember.”

“Or a tune that you can hear in your mind sometimes but never hum,” Tal added.

The youngest nodded, casting a grateful smile at her sister. “Exactly. And you search and search and cannot find it until you wake up some night and think ‘Ah! That was it!’” she continued. Pulling a tissue from one of her pockets she gently wiped Sari’s tears away with it before re-directing her sister’s gaze so that she was looking at her. “So I don't think you have forgotten. One day someone will say something the exact same way she did and then you will remember once more, you’ll see.”

Her voice was calm, steady and she sounded so sure of herself that, finally, Sari seemed to relax a little.

“I hope so. I really do,” she whispered, leaning into Romma’s touch.

“Of course you will. Trust me…I know everything.” She flashed one of her famous grins at her sister before pulling her into a tight hug. And, to her joy, the hug was returned fiercely.

Tal placed her free hand on Sari’s head, stroking the dark hair like she had done when she had still been a little kid. Her eyes met those of Romma and she gave her a proud smile. ‘Well done,’ it said. ‘Very well done.’

Finally Sari pulled back a little and wiped her hands. Her eyes, though still reddened, sparkled again and she smiled an earnest smile. “Thank you. Both of you. For…understanding. And for being there.”

“Anytime, sister dear,” Tal answered her quietly. No more words were needed between the sisters. After another few minutes of companionable silence they rose on an unspoken agreement and returned to their friends by the fire.

None of them commented on what had happened. They knew how close Anja and Sari had been and they knew that the grief returned sometimes. So instead of talking the guitarists started to play another song, a quite lullaby.

When Sari had settled back down she closed her eyes. And somewhere in her mind she could hear Anja’s voice intoning the words of the lullaby and saw her skilled fingers flutter over the strings of her guitar.

Maybe Romma was right. It would always be there. Sometimes it was just harder to hear. With a small smile she lifted her voice to join with those of the others, bidding the day goodbye and the land good night.

The End

A/N: In loving memory of my dear friend.