***SPOILER ALERT!!!*** This post contains information about my story Memories. Click here if you haven’t read it already.
Carly wraps her plaid shawl tighter around her as we walk the perimeter of the Danburry Residence. “I don’t think I should do this,” she says, “there are so many people who could be hurt.”
“But doesn’t justice mean more than feelings?”
“Is it really justice for more lives to be ruined by one mistake?”
“What about this, if you want to talk about the other topic, you can bring it up. I’ll just stick to what my readers were the most interested in. Fair enough?”
After a moment’s thought, she shrugs.
“Brandon’s love for you was clear to my readers. How did the two of you meet?”
“At college.” Her eyes sparkle. “My best friend had convinced me to go to a dance marathon. He was the guy I was paired with.”
“He must have been a wonderful dancer.”
“Nope.” She laughs. “He practically had to hold his breath to keep from tripping over his own feet, but I’d never seen someone try so hard, and be so passionate about, something they are so terrible at. That was impressive.”
“How long did you two date before he proposed?”
“Seven months.” She lifts the shawl to her nose to protect it from the nipping breeze. “But I would have married him after the dance, if he had wanted to ask me.”
“You were that certain about him?”
She nods emphatically, her eyes watering.
“How long did it take you to plan your wedding?”
“Two years. I had wanted to elope, or maybe do something small with just our parents, but he wanted something bigger than big. Something we’d always remember.” She snorts. “Do you want to know the ironic thing?”
“Even though my memory has basically come back, I can’t remember anything about my own wedding. I can remember being too excited to sleep the night before, and I can remember—” her voice breaks, “seeing Brandon reaching into a burning car on our way to the hotel afterward, but I can’t remember my mom helping me into my dress, or the look on Brandon’s face when I first stepped into the church.”
“What do you remember from the crash?”
She stops walking. “I’m not talking about that.”
“But you did bring it up.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to talk about it.”
When I try to persuade her she threatens to end the interview. “Okay.” I raise my hands in surrender. “I’ll go back to you and Brandon. One reader did question if there was a problem with your relationship before the accident.”
“Every relationship has problems.” She walks a few steps ahead of me, her head tilted down.
“But was there something bigger going on? The end of your story left that point a bit vague.”
“Maybe it was supposed to be that way.” She spins on her heel. “Maybe you have no right to ask.” The pain in her eyes begs me to stop.
“What was going on with you and Brandon? If you don’t tell me, then I’ll just make something up.”
“I would, and I’ll make him look a lot worse than the truth.”
For what seems eons the pendulum of her thoughts swings almost visibly behind her eyes. “I thought writers were only supposed to tell the truth.”
“Then answer the question.”
“He’s sterile, okay?” The hatred in her eyes coils around me. “All I’d ever wanted was to be a mother, and he didn’t tell me until after our wedding. I was screaming at him, and I’m the reason we crashed.”
Thank you so much for reading, everyone! I truly hope you enjoyed this interview.