Short Short Story - Rough Draft (Unfinished)

Grand

Things didn’t turn out the way Sara expected, nor the way her mother had planned. At no point did she think she would end up in her parents’ house again, at least not before they needed looking after. But here she is amid a second adolescence, upstairs from Mom and Dad, miles from civilization in remote and desolate Cape Cod, which is kind of like living on the moon.

She finds herself smack in the middle of multigenerational living, biting her tongue as she never had done as a child or a teenager. She’s got this impossibly adorable boy; she gets migraines that take her under and a dog to complete the family unit. She can’t decide if she has a mild case of hypochondria or just plain bad luck. Her parents, Jane and Archibald, on the other hand are exemplary, put together, with everything just so.

Her lineage, Perfectionists. Her favorite line, “In my family, you DO cry over spilled milk,” spoken to emphasize the “do” but also to add the humor, although humor can often be misread or act as a shield.

“That’s all right… These things happen,” says Archibald to a friend on the phone, which seems like a perfectly fine thing to say, only it’s regarding the loss of his mother-in-law, granted she was 97 and dying of Alzheimer’s. He’s never been one for self-expression or emotions.

The same could be said about his wife, Jane, though regal and stoic at times, she has an unexpected charm. She’s been known to run outside in a rain storm with her grandson, Spencer, to stomp through puddles. Archibald, though he might hate to admit it, has this side too. His daughter calls it stealth humor and his daughter-in-law refers to it as shock and awe.

This is why the rule of thumb in the Baron family has come to be, expect the unexpected.

When Spencer stepped off the bus and said, “My dad’s a jerk.” Sara, not missing a step asked, “Why do you think that honey?” To which he shrugged his shoulders, flopping his backpack to the driveway.

“Spencer, I can’t give you a daddy but I can give you men who love you.” And she hoped that would be enough.

The next morning Spencer proceeded to stir the house into an uproar, stomping, protesting and responding to every question with a prompt, “No.”

The thing about living in a house with three generations is that everyone needs their own personal space – a place to be ugly, mean, and alone – having this space allows for fits to be carried out in privacy, for the most part.

Then again the next day, Spencer, “I wish school was a choice – I’d say no.” And soon he was bringing home notes; for goofing off in the bathroom, for messing around in line, and he couldn’t pay attention in class.

Living with extended family means plenty of opinions, ideas on parenting, and figuring the delicate balance of roles within this reinvented family. Everyone is compromising something.

Jane is most proud of the beautiful home she has made. She prizes her possessions, one of which is the baby grand piano handed down to her from her mother. The story behind it being that Grandma married the love of her life in her family home in Winters, California standing before the baby grand piano that now resides in the Baron’s living room. Spencer didn’t know this when he scratched his Lego figure up the piano leg, he only knew he was mad and gritting his teeth and gripping that plastic and carving into the soft flesh of the wood made him feel good.

“Spencer! Sara!”

Jane was furious. She lost composure. She almost cried, as did Sara, and Spencer ran away cheeks red and tears running down his face. Archibald stepped in to yell a bit too. No one was happy in that house.

“Fine, Mom! We’ll leave. Is that what you want?” Sara yelled.

“Great, go.” Jane said.

“Yeah, get out.” Added Archibald.

And everyone stomped their separate ways. But leaving isn’t really an option, and it’s not what everyone wants anyway.