“Good Therapy” (Monday Writing Essential)

Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on August 22, 2011 0 Comments

I pulled up my current manuscript, started working on my edits, and realized that this section would meet today’s MWE challenge. Teenagers, who are still legally children, also role play—sometimes as a form of humor.

In this scene, Ryan runs into Callie on the beach and invites her up to his house. They are sitting on his patio, talking. They are at the getting-to-know-you phase—and getting closer with each question.

[Note: Feel free to offer critique. Any manuscript begs for criticism as it will get plenty of it before it gets published. This scene doesn’t have that finished feel yet, so…have at it!]

 

“Good Therapy” (extracted from Chapter 4)

“Maybe it’s easier to talk to strangers,” Ryan offers.

I consider his logic. “Yeah, I guess, but the truth is…” I bite down on my lip. “I don’t feel like we’re strangers.”

“You know why?”

I shake my head.

“Because we connected right away.”

“’Cause of basketball?”

“Yeah, that’s part of it.”

“And the other part?”

His eyes fall to my empty glass. “You need more water?”

“Nah, I’m good,” I answer, but I’m still waiting for an answer to my question. I want to know if we connected on another level—not just a mutual respect for each other’s skill on the court or an ability to make each other laugh. Those things add up to a friendship, but what I wanted to know—but was too afraid to ask—is if Ryan could see me as something more. Because that “something more” would help me forget the something bad that took over my life. 

Ryan presses forward. “So…why’d you break up?”

“You don’t wanna’ hear my problems”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m considering a degree in psychology, and I need to practice on someone.” He rests his elbows on the table, letting a smile slip across his lips. His warm smile, his soft green eyes, every feature holds magical powers and turns my insides to mushy-gushy. Even if he doesn’t share my feelings, I cannot reverse infatuation’s spell.

Then he leans back in his chair and folds his hands on his lap. “So…where should we begin today, Miss Williams?”

I smile, thinking he would make a good therapist and how I would have gone back to Mr. G, the bald man with bad breath, if he looked more like Ryan. “I don’t know, Mr. No Last Name,” I tease, wondering how we got here so quickly—from strangers to two people who share a slew of inside jokes. And I wonder how we got to be so comfortable around each other. This kind of comfort takes time, and rather than going forward and letting the conversation flow naturally, doubt stops me.  “Hey, can we just talk about basketball—and not my personal life?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not normally like this.”

“Like what? Real? Genuine? Honest?”

“You have a way with words, Ryan. Maybe you should consider being a lawyer instead,” I mumble.

He laughs. “You know what?”

I shrug my shoulders.

“I like you.”

“Yeah, well…what’s not to like?” I return flippantly.

“Exactly, so tell me what happened on Friday.”

 

 

 

Today’s challenge: create a scene where children reflect the world of adults.

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About the Author ()

I'm the author of Nothing but Trouble after Midnight.

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