Dreamers' Club

"Last night I dreamed of Johnny Depp," Lavergne said.

Ruthanne laughed. "Welcome to the club."

Lavergne paused in her work, her buffing rag smothering the business end of the spoon that would, in eighteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds, catch the sluggish sugar poured from a dispenser dotted with ketchup and fingerprints,. "What club?"

"Dreamers' club." Ruthanne cracked her gum. "People begin to dream when they realize their lives are limited. Maybe they're out of options. Maybe they've reached the halfway point in their lives and are wondering: What have I done that is remarkable? Johnny's telling you something, Lavergne. Telling you about what's missing."

"It was just a dream."

Ruthanne nodded. "That's what we all say. Dreaming's easier than making things happen. Cheaper too. I got braces to pay for. College bills, too. I ain't got time to dream. 'Sides, we need what's missing to appreciate what we got."

"What do you mean?"

Ruthanne wiped the counter with a damp blue sponge then held it up, studying its flesh. "See these holes? It's the holes in this sponge that give it structure. You got holes in your life, too."

Lavergne frowned. "I don't want holes in my life."

"We all got 'em. Regrets. Choices. Missed opportunities. All that builds up your life. It's what makes you you and nobody else."

"I can't live that way, Ruthanne."

Ruthanne nodded and dipped the sponge into the dishpan, filling the holes of the sponge with water. "Then quit dreaming, kid. Get out of here."

"You're firing me?"

"I'm setting you free. Now go, before I change my mind."

Ruthanne watched Lavergne untie her apron and walk out the front door before setting down the sponge and picking up the telephone. "Angie? Listen, I got a hole in my schedule. Think you can pick up the breakfast shift for me?"

"You finally fire that kid?"

"You could say that." Ruthanne laughed gently and cracked her gum.

"She'll be back, sooner or later."

Ruthanne nodded. "I know it."


This was written for this week's Trifecta Writing Challenge. The word was club.


Labels:

Writing in the Margins, Bursting at the Seams: Dreamers' Club

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Dreamers' Club

"Last night I dreamed of Johnny Depp," Lavergne said.

Ruthanne laughed. "Welcome to the club."

Lavergne paused in her work, her buffing rag smothering the business end of the spoon that would, in eighteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds, catch the sluggish sugar poured from a dispenser dotted with ketchup and fingerprints,. "What club?"

"Dreamers' club." Ruthanne cracked her gum. "People begin to dream when they realize their lives are limited. Maybe they're out of options. Maybe they've reached the halfway point in their lives and are wondering: What have I done that is remarkable? Johnny's telling you something, Lavergne. Telling you about what's missing."

"It was just a dream."

Ruthanne nodded. "That's what we all say. Dreaming's easier than making things happen. Cheaper too. I got braces to pay for. College bills, too. I ain't got time to dream. 'Sides, we need what's missing to appreciate what we got."

"What do you mean?"

Ruthanne wiped the counter with a damp blue sponge then held it up, studying its flesh. "See these holes? It's the holes in this sponge that give it structure. You got holes in your life, too."

Lavergne frowned. "I don't want holes in my life."

"We all got 'em. Regrets. Choices. Missed opportunities. All that builds up your life. It's what makes you you and nobody else."

"I can't live that way, Ruthanne."

Ruthanne nodded and dipped the sponge into the dishpan, filling the holes of the sponge with water. "Then quit dreaming, kid. Get out of here."

"You're firing me?"

"I'm setting you free. Now go, before I change my mind."

Ruthanne watched Lavergne untie her apron and walk out the front door before setting down the sponge and picking up the telephone. "Angie? Listen, I got a hole in my schedule. Think you can pick up the breakfast shift for me?"

"You finally fire that kid?"

"You could say that." Ruthanne laughed gently and cracked her gum.

"She'll be back, sooner or later."

Ruthanne nodded. "I know it."


This was written for this week's Trifecta Writing Challenge. The word was club.


Labels:

6 Comments:

At June 19, 2013 at 2:55 PM , OpenID robbowrites said...

I really like this. It's pretty sad that they assume she's going to end up back where she started. But at least they'll always have their dreams... Kate (Trifecta Guest Judge)

 
At June 19, 2013 at 4:37 PM , Anonymous steph said...

Dreams.. I recently wrote a post on the idea of the American Dream. It's cool that Ruthanne sowed the seed for a shot at something better. We all need someone like Ruthanne, maybe, to push us. Thought-provoking piece. And your details, as always, fill it out so beautifully.

 
At June 20, 2013 at 10:31 AM , Anonymous Lance said...

I had a differnet reaction. First of all, my wife is all in the Johnny Depp club so I imagined she was one of these women.

But I don't think she'll be back where she started, more like at a new place and a better one. I think.

well written

 
At June 20, 2013 at 12:07 PM , Blogger christina said...

I've said it before and I know I'll say it again: you rock your dialogue.

 
At June 20, 2013 at 2:31 PM , Blogger kymm said...

Smart one, that Lavergne. And Ruthanne - you go, girl!
Great story, Kelly!

 
At June 20, 2013 at 6:25 PM , Blogger Draug said...

I like the bit with the sponge (: Great job!

 

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