nanowrimo refelctions of a creative challenge: The Second Door hook and excerpt

Short Synopsis :
After preventing the suicide of a stranger, Robert Coates becomes a minor local celebrity. Trying to defend his "good deed" as a basic human duty, he is forced to analyze the way we interact as people in modern America.

After the death of his dear friend and benefactor, Robert becomes the reluctant patriarch of his community, a job he is unsure he can to do. He keeps his community together but an untimely visit from his past causes him to doubt his strength.

Set in Northwest Portland, The Second Door does not feel like the dreary last days of the year, the wintertime winds. It feels like the dramas next door, the second door, the one you might want to avoid.



 Excerpt:

Robert put his coffee cup down on the counter. He walked slowly into the kitchen. He stood by the dish machine. He looked at the clean stainless steel that should most definitely should have had dirty dishes on it. The glance around the kitchen led him to the same conclusion, there should be dirty dishes everywhere. There would not be a dirty dish until Saturday and that was still two days away.

He ran his finger across a shelf which held the sacks of flour and cornmeal. No grease. There most certainly should be grease on the shelf, on all the shelves. He looked around the kitchen. “Is there a such thing as a clean kitchen?” he whispered.

He went back through the door to see the Officer James and Max. The two were shoulder to shoulder. James had pushed his empty plate to the top of the counter. Max had pushed his newspaper to the side. They were both staring into the small cellphone in James's hand. A small voice came through on the small speakers. Robert approached. “What are you looking at?”

“Shh. Shh,” Max said. “It's you.”

“What?” Robert said.

No one moved. The small newscast on the small screen stopped. “What did you say to her?” Max said.

“What?” Robert said. “I don't remember.”

“You see that?” Max said. He pointed to a very small television set above the small window above the kitchen's hot line. “I've never seen that TV work.”

“Me neither,” Officer James said.

Robert looked at the TV. “Well, me neither.”

“It's good,” Max said. “We don't need a TV. Antagonistic bullshit.”

“Why is it here?” James asked.

“I guess because it's always been here,” James said. “The last thing I remember seeing on it was that awful car crash.”

“Which?” Max asked.

“That awful one.”

“Oh, the awful crash,” Max said. He tapped James's hand as he said.

“You know, the one that killed Diana.”

“Oh,” Max said. He became very sober. “It was a bad crash. It wasn't right what happened to her.”

“I think that was the last time it work,” Robert said.

“It wouldn't be compatible with the new stuff anyway,” James said.

“Get rid of it,” Max said.

“What?” Robert said.

“You've had some trouble today haven't you? Hearing things, understanding things?” Max said. “It's time to part with it.”

Robert looked up at the small set. “I don't like cleaning it,” he said. He stood very tall, tippytoes and reached to the dusty old box.

It came off the shelf with ease. He stilled then backed to the other two holding the box. He looked at the faded and dusty top of the box. He turned around and faced the others. “I'll, um, be right back.” He walked toward the front door very quickly.

There had been a trend in recent years for TVs to become free range. Televisions of all shapes and sizes, colors and models had been placed on curbs, corners, mouths of alleys. There where TVs everywhere. In a perfect world, all these TVs all of these free range TVs would be turned away from living rooms and bedrooms and all rooms all over America and left to decay out in the elements because the viewers inside had come to do new things with their time. But this was just not the case. Oftentimes these free range TVs were accompanied by slim but large boxes which were the replacements. The new TVs were slim, yes, larger, yes. These new replacements were nothing more than bigger, fiercer, meaner delivery systems for an already derelict society.

On the street, still holding the TV, Robert did not just want to abandon it. He had seen what becomes of abandoned TVs. They sit around in the rain, in the sun, all day, all night. No one claims them. Eventually a miscreant comes along, one who has the propensity for violence, and smashes the old TV up into a million bits. Outside the cafe, Robert did not want to see this poor old machine broken weeks and weeks from now. He could not bare the thought of having to pick it up again and again and again.

He put it in the dumpster. And afterward, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction.

When he made it back to the cafe, Officer James stood by the till and Max stood on the other. Max slammed the till shut with his belly, which was his custom. “Next time, huh? What say you can pay for breakfast by taking out my trash, sweeping the floor.”

“You bet,” Officer James said. “I'll do that.”

The three walked toward the door and only Officer James went out. Both Max and Robert standing side by side, watched James go. They watched James go to the police car, get in and slowly drive away. “I'm so fucking proud of that kid,” Max said. “My boy.”

“You're boy?” Robert said.

“Okay,” Max said. He turned to face Robert. He clapped him on the shoulder. “Our boy, then,” he said.

“Darn right,” Robert said. Robert moved toward the counter. He sat down and looked at the paper that Max left all over. “Jesus, what are we going to do?”

“Whatever you do, you'll do with grace, I suspect,” Max said. He elected to go back to work. He picked up the plates and made to walk to the kitchen. He hesitated by the kitchen door. He turned and faced Robert. “What did you say to her?”

“Who?” Robert said defensively.

“The suicide. Who else is there?”

“Oh,” Robert said. “I just asked her not to go.”

“And that's it?”

“Pretty much,” Robert said. He stood now. He made a move to go to the kitchen too.

“And you don't want anyone to know this?”

“What difference does it make?” Robert said.

“Robert, listen to yourself. You saved someone from doing something awful. Doesn't this make any sense to you?”

“It won't matter that I saved her.”

“Yes, it will.”

“Not in a hundred years,” Robert said.

“Well, maybe nothing will seem like it matters in a hundred years. But it matters right now. There are a lot of people that want you to be recognized for this.”

“Play me like a pawn,” Robert said.

Max took a deep breath. He lifted his shoulders and began to walk. “I feel really bad for you Robert. I feel really bad for you.”

Robert just stared. There was no beating Max. Max had loved Jimmy Carter and felt awful during the landslide 1980 election. Max was on the side of the newly reunified Germany 1990 Soccer club that swept the World Cup that year. Max loved all that was right in the world and he loathed anything that was wrong. Max was probably right. Max was always right, probably. “Listen,” Robert said.

“You know you're not in until this afternoon. You can go get some air, go do something. You can take my truck, if you'd like,” Max said.

“Naw,” Robert said. “But I might like to get some air.”