Sep 13, 2017

An excerpt from my NaNoWriMo 2016

I had only had one, very small cup of coffee. I wanted, no needed, a second cup desperately but he decided it was time to go, even though our goodbyes and parting words took longer than it would have taken for me to drink that second cup.
I smiled at our hosts and joked that I would get a roadie coffee, since they assured me that we wouldn’t find a decent cup of coffee once we got out of Bunbury. As we drove, I realised we were on the road out of town. He stopped, and I assumed he’d enter a stop for coffee into the GPS, but he was just rechecking the load on the roof rack.
"What about coffee?" I asked, but it sounded more like "coffeeeee", and more like begging than asking. He assured me that there was a place we could go but he continued the out of town route.
"I don’t want to wait an hour, I want something now," I said and I hated the way I sounded when I said it.
We stopped to check the load once more, then the noise that was irritating him must have been sorted.
"You can’t hear it?" he said. I responded in the negative. My caffeine deprived brain couldn’t comprehend anything. The muscles in my neck were tightening and my Zen was way past due for a top up.
Finally, we arrived in Boyanup. I hadn’t even left the car when I heard the wails from an unknown source. He mistook my concern for fear. Once I reassured him I was only concerned that the unknown woman sounded distressed, I left to buy the coffee and he checked the load again.
I followed the sobs to the woman on a public telephone, almost unseen in the city. She was wailing about coming to get her kids and something about him sleeping around or sleeping with someone, I wasn’t sure. Her pain was thick in her voice and it permeated everything around her. My heart clenched as she said the words I had so often repeated myself, "I’m not crazy".
I entered the shop and bought the drinks and two slices, which we really didn’t need, but my sugar addiction is as bad as my caffeine addiction. At least I don’t smoke anymore, but I keep thinking I should take it up again. I kept my sunglasses on as I was making my purchases, but I didn’t care about the looks I got. My thoughts were still on the woman in pain, at her most vulnerable, with no privacy, in the middle of the town she probably lived in, spiralling out of control because she was pushed beyond her level of coping.
Women are always seen as the emotional ones, out of control, crazy, hysterical. We snapped because we didn’t get our own way, we cried because it rained on the washing, we spiralled because we couldn’t cope, we crashed the car because we are stupid, we tipped over the edge because we are weak, we killed our partner because we didn’t get our coffee... okay I made that last one up.
After we left Bunbury I knew the time had come for me to write it all down. I was going to have a week without phone calls, appointments, study or work. I was ready to face my demons and work it all out.
The only problem was I had left all the recordings at home and I was going to have to write a lot of it from memory. I had to do it though, I had to make a start. I could fill in the details from the recordings and my notes later. It was time to record the truth. It was time.

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