Greta: the Beginning (draft)

The Sanding house sat in the middle of Maple Street, a quiet street sandwiched between the middle-class section of town on one end and the just-turned fringe area at the other end, what people had always described as the bad section of town. Forty years ago James and Lillian Sanding had purchased the house when James had returned from the war.

They had met at the local diner, Marion’s Luncheonette, when James was a young foreman and the steel mill, and Lillian one of the waitresses that served the lunch crew. James was a handsome, ebullient young man who caught the eye of many a maiden in the town, but for some reason, he only had eyes for Lillian.

Lillian at age 19 was pretty and petite, with a full smile that stretched across rosebud lips. She had been orphaned when both her parents were killed in an automobile accident; they were crossing the street hand in hand when old Mrs. Robinson had come down the avenue in her new Edsel and had pressed her foot on the accelerator instead of the brake. Lillian had been taken in by Angelo and Rosa Martucci, who took pity on the fourteen year old, and gave her a room over their store and a job at the luncheonette. In the back of their minds, they were also thinking about their son Roberto who was so painfully shy that they feared he would never meet a girl, and they wanted grandchildren to carry on the family line. They hoped that somehow he and Lillian would someday marry.

But then Lillian met James, and they realized that it was never going to happen. Lillian was just as smitten with James as he was with her. James and Roberto became best friends, they believed, because James could see that Robert was in love with Lillian, and felt sorry for him.

Lillian and James got married and rented a tiny third floor apartment from one of the neighbors just a few houses away from the Martucci house. They were a happy couple, and James brought out the best in Lillian. Her reticent demeanor was beginning to thaw during her life with James, and the neighbors thought that finally she would finally have some happiness in her life after the death of her parents.

Lillian gave birth to a healthy seven pound baby girl seven months later after she and James were married, leading to much speculation among the conservative and traditional residents of the town, who knew that no baby would be born early at such a weight. But the birth was difficult one, and took a toll on Lillian’s health, and the neighbors put aside their disapproval, after much coaching and pleading from Rosa, and came out to help the young couple. Lillian was bedridden for a few months after the birth, and it was James who would take his baby daughter out in the pram, walking about town, and stopping to chat with the neighbors, who were quite smitten with the dashing young man. They were secretly glad that it was James and not Lillian who brought the child out, because as pretty as Lillian was, she was also a little standoffish, leaving the neighbors at a loss with what to talk with her about. Lillian eventually grew healthier and would occasionally take Greta out for strolls, but it was James who the neighbors would see more often. They didn’t believe that Lillian was that fond of the walks or the baby, but she seemed to be happy enough with her husband.

Things changed drastically when a year later, war was declared overseas. James immediately enlisted, and Roberto followed in his footsteps, much to the chagrin of his Angelo and Rosa. To their relief, Roberto and James were deployed together; they knew that James would look after their son. The boys were sent to the front, and for over a year, no word was heard from either of them.

Too Many Secrets 8/?

Intermezzo

He sits absolutely still, looking across the Tharsis, squinting as he tries to make out the vehicles speeding around the circles of the freeway. He wonders where they could be going in such a hurry. But that was the atmosphere of Tharsis, rushing, bustling, making deals, rushing headlong to nowhere. Just like him.

I hate you.

All the things she said keep running through his head. He closes his eyes but he cannot block out her image, her face, the hurt in her eyes.

I hate you.

He raises a cigarette to his mouth and lights it, inhaling the acidic smoke deep into his lungs. He welcomes the burning pain. He smiles as he blows the smoke out letting the wind carry it away, just like he wishes it would carry away the image of those green eyes that haunt him…

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.