LITR 3731: Creative Writing
Student Fiction Submission 2003

Liz Little

Faux Mint Juleps

Summary of the previous scene: It has been four years since Deanna's mother had her "episode" or "gentle breakdown" as her older sister Faye called it.  Deanna is coming back home to the small town of Manning where she grew up.  She is making the trip because her sister has asked her to come.  She has not been home because at the time of her mother's breakdown, she was asked not to come.   A phone call opens the first scene.  Deanna is expected for dinner, but she tells her sister that she has already made plans to stay her first night back with a childhood friend.  She does not want to handle the pressure of a set time to show up.  She knows that she would end up disappointing her family by being late.  After the call, Deanna is left with a picture of her life as she looks down upon the scattered mess of her bedroom. She stands above a very organized open suitcase containing pressed and matching outfits that she has prepared for the trip.  Faced with this perfect little unit against the craziness of her scattered things, she empties the suitcase and fills it again with some wrinkled clothes from the floor.  Scene two picks up at the friend's house in Manning.
I have included a summary of the rest of the work.  I thought that this may or may not be helpful in showing unity, or theme.  The summary is included at the conclusion of scene 3.  I am submitting scenes 2 and 3 for the assignment.

                                                       Scene 2
     Deanna let herself into Iris's home through the green back door that had remained unlocked as far back as she could remember.  She was greeted with the many faces of family photos that lined the walls and shelves.  Her mother had once told her that a woman should be careful never to decorate her home with family photos.  She lifted a small, hand painted frame from a shelf and stared at the picture of herself and her best friend Iris as children, both smiling and filthy from playing in the yard.  The small photo stood out in its placement next to Iris's larger and more formal bride's maid portraits that had been taken at the weddings of her seven brothers. Iris's hair was dark and short.  It had always been short.  Her full childhood smile looked the same even in her adult pictures.  It was as if her small girl's body had eventually grown into it.  Deanna inhaled as much of the air in the room as she could.  Sight and smell swirled with the mixture of spring color and air from the open windows and from the weighted fumes of bright oil paints that lay on Iris's table.  She stood here in the quiet of this room with an excitement of being in it by herself.   
"You're here!"  Iris sang as she came up from behind her. 
            " I'm here!" Deanna was embarrassed for surprising her friend in her own home. 
"How long have you been waiting?" Iris's eyes opened wide.
             "Not long. I was just looking around. The place is so much the same."
"Not really, Mom was always changing things.  I hope she didn't hear you say that," Iris joked, craning her head towards the ceiling as if her mother's ghost might be listening from above. 
      "Oh I don't mean that it looks outdated, it's just this house.  It seems like home.  I'm so sorry that I wasn't here for your mom's funeral," said Deanna.
      "Don't worry, I knew you couldn't make it.  Besides, you know how it is around here with my Lebanese relatives and family gatherings.  I probably wouldn't have gotten to talk to you.  Sito wouldn't have let you go for a minute. She always favored you," said Iris.
     . "I've always loved your grandmother. I can't believe she still alive!" Deanna laughed.
       "Sito? The Lebanese matriarch to the nine tribes of Manning, she'll probably live to be about 150.  That sounds like a good Old Testament age," Iris laughed.  " Hey, have you talked to your brother?"
Deanna felt surprised by the timing of this question, but she had expected it all the same.                                                                                                                                                           
People from her past always asked about Tim.  She had inherited the biological position of being her brother's spokesperson.        
       "Tim's doing great.  He's working with…" she hesitated, remembering this was Iris, she added,  "I don't know how or what he's really doing.  What time is it?  He's usually drunk after 5:00." Deanna began to roll her hand over a pile of paintbrushes that lay on the wood table next to her.  "What are you working on?" she asked.
                    "I wanted to do something that reminded me of my mom.  Believe it or not, tulips were her favorite flower.  I didn't like it at first, but then I quit using brushes, and started painting with this scraping knife, and you don't need to hear all of this do you?" Iris stopped.
                     "Don't say that, of course I want to hear about your painting.  I would think a paintbrush would work better, but it's certainly unusual, like your mom.  The paint is so heavy; it kind of curls all up against itself.  It looks like everything is running together, but I can see the tulips.  I like it."
                    " Hey, do you want me to go over with you in the morning?"  Iris said, sounding maternal.
         "No, Faye will be there.  It'll be difficult enough for us to talk. Unless you have started to run around in her social arena, you won't be much help.  As it is, I think doubling up on her would be confusing and unfair."
         "You're so mean to her.  I would die to have a sister.  How is Faye, anyway?  We never see each other now that you've moved," said Iris.
         "She's happy, I guess, her kids are cute, and her husband, Monte, is the same," Deanna felt as if she could repeat the last words of this sentence 'is the same' three more times and it would continue like the echo of a canyon. 
         "How's the inside tanning business going?" asked Iris.
         "That sounds odd when you say it. But that's what I do.  I provide the world with fake tans even on sunny days.  That's when my job's the weirdest, asking people to pay for a tan.  And they do.  Business is going great.  Hey, I'm beat, can I put my things in our…,"  Deanna felt her face grow warm. "I mean your old room?" she asked over her shoulder as she headed towards the stairs. 
           "Sure, you're the only one who ever stays in there. It might as well be yours," Iris answered.        
       The curved wooden staircase lay full of color from the bright, oversized runner that seemed to tumble upwards.  Cut flowers stood in a vase on her dresser upstairs.  When she saw them, Deanna was caught up by a wave of hope that spontaneous beauty could exist.  No one used this room, and Iris had only known of her coming this afternoon. These flowers had clearly been here for a while by the looks of the low, brown water in which they now stood, Deanna thought.  She threw her things on the bed and called Tim.  He answered on the second ring.  In an expected and familiar slur of speech, he told her he loved her, and that he would have dinner with her and mother while she was home.  There would be no dinner, but the conversation felt nice and kind of real. 
       Deanna filled the bathtub in the peach and dark wooded bathroom at the end of the hall.  One bathroom among seven bedrooms, so many moments from baby baths to prom night had ran through this small room.  She watched as the room collected and let go of the late sunlight that faded in and out as it pleased against the static protest of white electric bulbs.  Teni, Iris's mother still seemed to exist in every inch of this house.  It was like she had the ability to continue to bless her inanimate belongings with pieces of herself.  Even the dark wood seemed absorbent and familiar to love, Deanna thought as she sunk down into the deep porcelain bath.     

Scene 3
    Deanna stood before her mother's house in the deep shade of what used to be the biggest tree she had ever known.  The yard appeared unchanged.  The manicured shrubs had not grown an inch beyond their strictly molded forms, which had been imposed upon them by years of precise clippings.  As she gazed at every perfect bed, she wondered about her mother's fragility.  Every plant and flower remained within its borders, except for one.  A full patch of mint growing wild beneath a broken spigot was left untouched because it served a delicate need, mint tea.  What had caused a woman who demanded such perfect order to spill, to burst her boundaries?  Deanna caught sight of the wooden clothespins that filled old coffee cans out on the back porch.  She laughed at the thought of her and Tim frustrating their mother by dumping out those pins years ago and filling them with dried cicada shells; each raced to collect the most.  The two would store the cache of frail and empty bodies out behind the garage as if they were made of gold.   
"How are ya? You must be Deanna.  You're lovely," an Irish sounding voice suddenly broke into her thoughts.  A man with almost white blonde hair had appeared at the kitchen screen door.  Not being able to place him, Deanna stared in confusion for a moment.  He was much older than her.  His eyes were bright blue and watery.
"I'm Denny. I've been helping your mom around the house.  I'm thrilled to finally get to meet you.  Do you want me to let her know you're here?"
"No, thank you umm…," Deanna trailed off in a full stare. 
"The name's Denny.   Would you like a Julep, just about to steal some leaves of mint for the girls' drinks."
"The who?"
"For your mom and her friends.  Well, just yell."
He opened the thin frame of the screen door with his dirty hands and let her in as he passed to go out.  Had her mother moved and not told her?  She began to take in every part of the kitchen, as she inventoried the spaciously ordered kitchen counter tops that neatly topped the painted wooden cupboards.  The room smelled of vinegar.  She was home.  The bitter soaking of coffee cups had began which would soon remove any trace of use from the past week.  Yes, she was home and ready for a good bitter soaking.   
         "Mother!" Deanna yelled feeling as if she were fourteen again.  She moved through the kitchen door and toward the hall through the quiet house.  As she walked past her mother's sofa table, her hands skimmed the white silk roses that brimmed over the top of a wide crystal vase with a small mouth.  Her mother entered from the hall, "Honey, you made it!"  "I am so glad to see you," her mother said as she summarily scanned Deanna's outfit.  The two hugged.  "Faye, Faye your sister's here," she called out.  They sat in awkward silence waiting for Faye, the necessary piece of this incomplete connection. 
         "Mother, who is that man?" Deanna asked breaking the silence.
Her mother stared at her a while as if she were unaware of the presence of a man in her house.
"Oh," she laughed, "that's Denny.  He is a handyman.  Such a card.  You know he is Irish," she said with a knowing grin as if she had shared something valuable.  
"Well, I could tell that, mom.  Since when do you need a gardener?"
"Well, sweetheart, he needs the work, and I haven't been able to keep up with all of this by myself," her mother answered.
"Why was he in your kitchen by himself?  No one goes in your kitchen, ever, much less a strange man," said Deanna.
"He does work around the church, and when I was sick he came over and helped out here.   It's nice to have him around.  I trust him. But you don't need to worry,  he's too young for me," she whispered with a grin.
Deanna stood speechless not knowing what to do with her mother's unfamiliar humor.  Faye appeared next to her.  Her red hair fell just above her neck, she was pale but classically beautiful and tall.  Her features on her face as well as her clothes fit well, and everything about her was smooth and coordinated. 
            "Oh, D.D.  I am so glad you are here,"  Faye sized up her outfit as mother had, but returned with a quick comment, "We will have to go shopping!"  Faye reached for her sister's arm with a graceful and controlled movement.  Five years and nothing could possibly change in this house, Deanna thought, with or without a strange man around.


Summary of conclusion:  Later that afternoon, Deanna and Faye hear laughter rising from the backyard.  They see some of their mother's church circle friends in their flowery dresses helping each other to walk barefoot through a muddy path that leads to the back of the garage.  Deanna finds out that these women have been doing this ever since the day the Denny got them drunk on mint juleps.  Faye explains that the attraction behind the garage is what the women call an English Garden.  Here her mother had agreed to let Denny plant whatever he chooses, a conglomeration of flowers that have fallen into his hands from the church and gardens of other houses he works for.  Outraged that he is giving the women alcohol, Deanna questions her sister.  Faye tells Deanna that he no longer puts alcohol in the drinks, that the women still come and have a good time.  Deanna begins to think that this is even more absurd.  Faye and Deanna eventually head back to the garage along the path together.  All of them end up together among the chaotic garden and drinking fake mint juleps.  This ending seemed to tie in a lot of themes that I am trying to develop, and the actual garden party is light and humorous.