Aug. 18: 5 women
There’s a woman in Albuquerque namedDeborah Grey who works at Dunkin
Donuts. She’s 28 years old and herearly prettiness is morphing into the
onset of middle age. Sheremembers a time when her long blonde hair would
bounce like it doeson television commercials advertising conditioner.
Ever since she wasa little girl, she wanted to be an actress. In high
school, shealways got the lead in the school play, even scoring the
coveted roleof Sandy in the Grade 12 production of Grease. Her friends
and familytold her she was a natural talent, that one day she’d be
aHollywood star and win an Oscar. She went to theatre school,graduated
with honours, got rave reviews for the productions shestarred in. She
thought she was a sure thing.
She wasn’t.
Auditioned for all the big name theatrecompanies. Never got a callback. Tried to get an agent in L.A. Nobites there either. The best she’s done is scored a few roles insome community theatre productions. Didn’t pay a thing. Her mostrecent role was one of the Trivial Pursuit players in the femaleversion of Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple. The director was a husky46-year-old lesbian whose partner played one of the lead roles. She’dnever directed a play in her lifetime and, upon learning that Deborahwas a theatre school graduate, treated her like a spoiled entitledprincess. The play ran over three nights and garnered nothing butpolite applause. At the cast party, which took place in a hotel lobbywhere one of the other Trivial Pursuit players worked as achambermaid, the director publicly thanked her cast and heapedparticular praise on her partner who “delivered one of the bestperformances I have ever seen in a theatre.
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There’s a woman in Peterborough namedDanielle Whitestone who has just learned that her husband of 11 yearshas been having an affair with her sister. She’s not sure who shehates more, her husband or her sister.
Oh she knows that the marriage is over.She won’t even budge on that. There’s a lot that she can forgive.She could forgive him forgetting a birthday or yelling at her motheror even breaking her porcelain doll collection, which he did thattime six years ago when he had too much to drink at the officeChristmas party. But this… she simply can’t forgive. She’s wiseenough to know that she’d feel the same way if it was with anotherwoman, even if that woman was a complete stranger. All this has doneis made her unleash her wrath on two people instead of one.
Despite her rage, she wonders why it isthat an extra-marital affair is so unforgiveable. Certainly himengaging in coitus with someone else doesn’t hurt her, not in thephysical sense anyway. No, this hurts on a much deeper level – adare-we-say spiritual level. She always found it odd that Jesus saidmarital unfaithfulness was the only acceptable grounds for divorce.She wanted to differ, maybe even challenge the Lord and ask him ifgetting stuffing kicked out of you on a daily basis was also groundsfor divorce. Of course, she’d never been cheated on when she hadthose thoughts but now that she was in that position, she couldappreciate what the Lord had said. In that moment, she felt close toGod. She believed that Jesus was a friend to women.
She hadn’t been to church in years.She’d gone as a girl but her husband put a stop to it; he saidchurch was silly.
Danielle went up to her bedroom, openedthe top drawer of her bureau, found the small square shaped box shekept at the back. Inside, on a bed of cotton, a thin silver chain. Onit dangled a small silver cross. She hung it around her neck. Thecross felt cool on her skin.
Outside, her husband’s silver BMWpulled into the driveway. He stepped out, looked up, saw her watchinghim through the bedroom window. He smiled and waved.
She did not wave back.
-
There’s a woman in Glengarry county,Ontario named Melodie McDonald. She was born in Toronto and she got adegree in accounting from the University there. She thought she wouldmake a living as a beancounter for a big TO business and then shehappened to visit Glengarry, where she fell in love with a dairyfarmer named Alex McDonald.
Thirty-two years later, Melodie does alot of accounting but she doesn’t consider herself a professionalaccountant. She considers herself a farmer.
She and her husband have five childrenand the oldest, Alex Jr., will probably take over the farm one day.Melodie and her family are up every morning at five. They milk 200dairy cows on their farm and they do more in one morning than most ofthe city folks Melodie grew up with do in one week.
Melodie is 57 now. On this particularmorning, she’s wearing a blue flannel shirt, overalls, and blackrubber boots. Her hair is black and grey, mostly hidden beneath ablack baseball cap that was a giveaway from Lachance Farm Equipment.Her face, free of makeup, is marred with lines from many cold wintersand overly-sunny days when she worked like a dog baling hay for thecows.
There was a time, early on in theirmarriage, when Melodie used to cry herself to sleep. She missed thebig city life. Missed the movie theatres and the coffee shops and themalls with all their clothes stores. Her husband, the deepest sleepershe’d ever known, would be snoring next to her. Melodie would rollon her side, cradle the bump on her belly that would one day be AlexJr., and whisper that piece of perfect wisdom her father had sharedwith her on her wedding day: “Perfect happiness is makingsacrifices for the people you love.”
Now and then, her husband will ask herif she misses Toronto and if she ever wishes her life turned outdifferently. She always lies. She doesn’t want to hurt hisfeelings. She wouldn’t change her life either but she still can’thelp but feel that small twinge of regret deep down in her soul. It’sburied beneath all the nice memories she’s built with her familythese past three decades, but it’s still there.
No matter, she says. Next time he asks,I’ll tell him how I feel. He may not like it but I love him enoughto tell the truth.
The next time he asks was the first dayof spring. It’s lunchtime and he and Melodie are sitting on theporch, drinking lemonade, looking at the old combine sitting alone inan empty field. “You could have been a big businesswoman inToronto, Mel,” he says. “Ever wish your life turned outdifferently?”
Before she can answer, an almost newwhite Honda Civic pulls into the driveway. The passenger door opensand a little boy, no more than five, comes running toward her. In hishand he waves a yellow piece of paper that has been scribbled on withcrayons.
“Grandma grandma,” he says. “Lookwhat I drew for you in preschool.”
Melodie takes the paper and examinesit. To most people, it’s nothing more than a bunch of colourfulblotches. To the boy, it’s high art.
“It’s you and grandpa milkingcows,” he says, beaming.
She kisses the boy and gives him aglass of lemonade. Then she turns to her husband. She is determinedto speak the truth.
“No, I don’t,” she says.
-
There’s a woman in Stettler, Albertanamed Sonja Spencer who is six feet tall and has long flowing hairthat is as red as the Japanese sun. She is almost 30 and she’s avirgin by choice, not by circumstance. If Sonja wanted to lose hervirginity, she could do so as easily as she could throw a baseball ortake down a deer with one of her hunting rifles. This gal, ladies andgents, is gorgeous.
No big surprise – Sonja’s vehicleof choice is a pickup truck. She owns a bar and she takes zero shitfrom her patrons, especially the redneck crowd who think they cancharm her by talking dirty. Sonja’s no pushover. Three years ago,when a drunk biker began crudely soliciting her, Sonja grabbed hisbeard and twisted it so hard that the man’s eyes began to water.Sonja didn’t let go for a full minute. She yelled foul insults intohis face, all the while twisting harder and pulling out giant tuftsof whiskers. She finally let go and slapped the man so hard thateveryone in the bar went as quiet as the tomb. Then, without losing abeat, she walked over to a young couple that had just wandered intothe bar. Smiling sweetly, she asked: “And what can I get youfolks?”
Sonja holds a black belt in apkido. Sheloves Ann Coulter and red meat. She doesn’t support same-sexmarriage, thinks abortion is murder, and has never tasted sodapop.Her favourite song of all time is Sweet Child O Mine by Guns N Roses,although she considers Gretchen Wilson’s Redneck Woman and SherylCrow’s Steve McQueen to be her own personal anthems. She doesn’tlike hockey unless it’s the Olympics. She hates television,celebrity gossip, and sleeping in. If Sonja wakes up at 5:01, you canguarantee that she’ll be out of bed by 5:02. While most people aresleeping in, Sonja is working out or reading the newspaper or eatinga (healthy) breakfast or taking a run through the woods.
Her favourite time of the year ishunting season and her best memory of all time is when she and herfather shot and killed a grizzly bear in the Yukon when she wasfourteen.
Sonja thinks she may get married oneday but it’ll have to be one helluva special dude because she hasno patience for laziness or guys who just want casual sex.
Plenty of folks out there don’t carefor Sonja at all. And believe me, she couldn’t possibly care anyless.
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There's a woman in Terra named Malona de Mathias and her whole life is about vengeance.
When she was a girl, she saw an evil man named Hafac murder her twin sister. She has dedicated her life to finding that man and killing him.
More cannot be said.
-
My critics tell me I can't create believable characters.
Only one of these women is real.
I'm not telling.
She wasn’t.
Auditioned for all the big name theatrecompanies. Never got a callback. Tried to get an agent in L.A. Nobites there either. The best she’s done is scored a few roles insome community theatre productions. Didn’t pay a thing. Her mostrecent role was one of the Trivial Pursuit players in the femaleversion of Neil Simon’s The Odd Couple. The director was a husky46-year-old lesbian whose partner played one of the lead roles. She’dnever directed a play in her lifetime and, upon learning that Deborahwas a theatre school graduate, treated her like a spoiled entitledprincess. The play ran over three nights and garnered nothing butpolite applause. At the cast party, which took place in a hotel lobbywhere one of the other Trivial Pursuit players worked as achambermaid, the director publicly thanked her cast and heapedparticular praise on her partner who “delivered one of the bestperformances I have ever seen in a theatre.
-
There’s a woman in Peterborough namedDanielle Whitestone who has just learned that her husband of 11 yearshas been having an affair with her sister. She’s not sure who shehates more, her husband or her sister.
Oh she knows that the marriage is over.She won’t even budge on that. There’s a lot that she can forgive.She could forgive him forgetting a birthday or yelling at her motheror even breaking her porcelain doll collection, which he did thattime six years ago when he had too much to drink at the officeChristmas party. But this… she simply can’t forgive. She’s wiseenough to know that she’d feel the same way if it was with anotherwoman, even if that woman was a complete stranger. All this has doneis made her unleash her wrath on two people instead of one.
Despite her rage, she wonders why it isthat an extra-marital affair is so unforgiveable. Certainly himengaging in coitus with someone else doesn’t hurt her, not in thephysical sense anyway. No, this hurts on a much deeper level – adare-we-say spiritual level. She always found it odd that Jesus saidmarital unfaithfulness was the only acceptable grounds for divorce.She wanted to differ, maybe even challenge the Lord and ask him ifgetting stuffing kicked out of you on a daily basis was also groundsfor divorce. Of course, she’d never been cheated on when she hadthose thoughts but now that she was in that position, she couldappreciate what the Lord had said. In that moment, she felt close toGod. She believed that Jesus was a friend to women.
She hadn’t been to church in years.She’d gone as a girl but her husband put a stop to it; he saidchurch was silly.
Danielle went up to her bedroom, openedthe top drawer of her bureau, found the small square shaped box shekept at the back. Inside, on a bed of cotton, a thin silver chain. Onit dangled a small silver cross. She hung it around her neck. Thecross felt cool on her skin.
Outside, her husband’s silver BMWpulled into the driveway. He stepped out, looked up, saw her watchinghim through the bedroom window. He smiled and waved.
She did not wave back.
-
There’s a woman in Glengarry county,Ontario named Melodie McDonald. She was born in Toronto and she got adegree in accounting from the University there. She thought she wouldmake a living as a beancounter for a big TO business and then shehappened to visit Glengarry, where she fell in love with a dairyfarmer named Alex McDonald.
Thirty-two years later, Melodie does alot of accounting but she doesn’t consider herself a professionalaccountant. She considers herself a farmer.
She and her husband have five childrenand the oldest, Alex Jr., will probably take over the farm one day.Melodie and her family are up every morning at five. They milk 200dairy cows on their farm and they do more in one morning than most ofthe city folks Melodie grew up with do in one week.
Melodie is 57 now. On this particularmorning, she’s wearing a blue flannel shirt, overalls, and blackrubber boots. Her hair is black and grey, mostly hidden beneath ablack baseball cap that was a giveaway from Lachance Farm Equipment.Her face, free of makeup, is marred with lines from many cold wintersand overly-sunny days when she worked like a dog baling hay for thecows.
There was a time, early on in theirmarriage, when Melodie used to cry herself to sleep. She missed thebig city life. Missed the movie theatres and the coffee shops and themalls with all their clothes stores. Her husband, the deepest sleepershe’d ever known, would be snoring next to her. Melodie would rollon her side, cradle the bump on her belly that would one day be AlexJr., and whisper that piece of perfect wisdom her father had sharedwith her on her wedding day: “Perfect happiness is makingsacrifices for the people you love.”
Now and then, her husband will ask herif she misses Toronto and if she ever wishes her life turned outdifferently. She always lies. She doesn’t want to hurt hisfeelings. She wouldn’t change her life either but she still can’thelp but feel that small twinge of regret deep down in her soul. It’sburied beneath all the nice memories she’s built with her familythese past three decades, but it’s still there.
No matter, she says. Next time he asks,I’ll tell him how I feel. He may not like it but I love him enoughto tell the truth.
The next time he asks was the first dayof spring. It’s lunchtime and he and Melodie are sitting on theporch, drinking lemonade, looking at the old combine sitting alone inan empty field. “You could have been a big businesswoman inToronto, Mel,” he says. “Ever wish your life turned outdifferently?”
Before she can answer, an almost newwhite Honda Civic pulls into the driveway. The passenger door opensand a little boy, no more than five, comes running toward her. In hishand he waves a yellow piece of paper that has been scribbled on withcrayons.
“Grandma grandma,” he says. “Lookwhat I drew for you in preschool.”
Melodie takes the paper and examinesit. To most people, it’s nothing more than a bunch of colourfulblotches. To the boy, it’s high art.
“It’s you and grandpa milkingcows,” he says, beaming.
She kisses the boy and gives him aglass of lemonade. Then she turns to her husband. She is determinedto speak the truth.
“No, I don’t,” she says.
-
There’s a woman in Stettler, Albertanamed Sonja Spencer who is six feet tall and has long flowing hairthat is as red as the Japanese sun. She is almost 30 and she’s avirgin by choice, not by circumstance. If Sonja wanted to lose hervirginity, she could do so as easily as she could throw a baseball ortake down a deer with one of her hunting rifles. This gal, ladies andgents, is gorgeous.
No big surprise – Sonja’s vehicleof choice is a pickup truck. She owns a bar and she takes zero shitfrom her patrons, especially the redneck crowd who think they cancharm her by talking dirty. Sonja’s no pushover. Three years ago,when a drunk biker began crudely soliciting her, Sonja grabbed hisbeard and twisted it so hard that the man’s eyes began to water.Sonja didn’t let go for a full minute. She yelled foul insults intohis face, all the while twisting harder and pulling out giant tuftsof whiskers. She finally let go and slapped the man so hard thateveryone in the bar went as quiet as the tomb. Then, without losing abeat, she walked over to a young couple that had just wandered intothe bar. Smiling sweetly, she asked: “And what can I get youfolks?”
Sonja holds a black belt in apkido. Sheloves Ann Coulter and red meat. She doesn’t support same-sexmarriage, thinks abortion is murder, and has never tasted sodapop.Her favourite song of all time is Sweet Child O Mine by Guns N Roses,although she considers Gretchen Wilson’s Redneck Woman and SherylCrow’s Steve McQueen to be her own personal anthems. She doesn’tlike hockey unless it’s the Olympics. She hates television,celebrity gossip, and sleeping in. If Sonja wakes up at 5:01, you canguarantee that she’ll be out of bed by 5:02. While most people aresleeping in, Sonja is working out or reading the newspaper or eatinga (healthy) breakfast or taking a run through the woods.
Her favourite time of the year ishunting season and her best memory of all time is when she and herfather shot and killed a grizzly bear in the Yukon when she wasfourteen.
Sonja thinks she may get married oneday but it’ll have to be one helluva special dude because she hasno patience for laziness or guys who just want casual sex.
Plenty of folks out there don’t carefor Sonja at all. And believe me, she couldn’t possibly care anyless.
-
There's a woman in Terra named Malona de Mathias and her whole life is about vengeance.
When she was a girl, she saw an evil man named Hafac murder her twin sister. She has dedicated her life to finding that man and killing him.
More cannot be said.
-
My critics tell me I can't create believable characters.
Only one of these women is real.
I'm not telling.
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