Guest Fiction from Kir from The Kir Corner

The Kir CornerI’m up to my ears in writing a present. Because she’s both the nicest woman on the internet and a gifted storyteller, I asked Kir for something to share with you all. She gave me a piece of Gathering Buttercups, a new story she’s developing on The Kir Corner. Kir writes incredibly engaging characters, and Kate is no exception. Kir recently finished a draft of a novel which began as a series of prompt responses for Write on Edge, and traveling with her on her writer’s journey, reading as her voice developed, has been a pleasure and a privilege.

Kate mindlessly wiped down the counter trying to erase imaginary smudges. Preoccupied with the ever-present to-do list in her head, she added Milk to the staples she’d need to pick up later at the supermarket.
Sighing deeply she turned up the volume on her iPod playing through the kitchen radio and plopped herself into a chair. Closing her eyes she took in the easy rhythm of the music, delighting in the fact that her life was quiet for a few moments as Zach took a much-needed nap.

The morning had been chaotic and terribly usual. The quick peck on the lips from her husband and the back to back tantrums from Zach as his three-year-old demands became the stuff of legends. Her voice was hoarse from yelling and pleading with him as she attempted to just make breakfast, funny that it got such a rest when Anthony walked back through the door.

“Hey buddy” he’d yell as he opened the door and the dog barked, his tail wagging a welcoming smile. Zach would run full on and leap into his arms screaming “DAAAADDDYYY!!” and the love fest would begin; while the tantrums, raspberries and teary eyes gone as if they had never existed.
Anthony would eventually find his way to her, thank her for making dinner and with another quick peck try to prove that nothing had changed between them, but it had. After twelve years it seemed they had nothing more to say to one another.

“I feel lonely.” Kate said to nobody but her spotless kitchen.

Getting up she moved toward the basement and the three loads of laundry that needed her attention, but halfway there she turned around and made a beeline for the couch. Sinking into the rich dark leather and grabbing a cozy blanket she grinned as if she were doing something illicit.
Wiggling her toes she bent toward the coffee table and reached for her laptop. Powering it on the blue screen filled with a picture of Zach holding a dinosaur at the Bronx Zoo, a smile splitting his face. She clicked on the small envelope and the screen filled with her email.

Taking a few minutes, she read and commented on blogs, answered Charlotte on what to wear tonight when she met a new guy for dinner and with the complete knowledge that Zach had cried himself right into a three-hour nap, she leisurely clicked through Facebook, taking note of good news, “liking” pictures and adding her two cents to more than one status update.

It was freeing to ignore her responsibilities and with that in mind, she closed Facebook and found the small icon for her Hotmail account tucked into the top corner of her screen.

Every few months she would take the time to open and delete all those emails, many just spam that had found its way to her inbox from her old life. The email address was one of the last remnants of her single life that she just couldn’t part with because it represented things she no longer had. Every time she thought about just canceling it her heart squeezed with resistance, so she left it, tucked into a corner and opened it to remind her of what her life looked like before she was Anthony’s wife and Zach’s mom.

Scanning the long list of outdated notices and offers, her eyes landed on a name that she hadn’t seen in half a dozen years, the date next to it revealing that it had arrived in this forgotten mailbox more than a month ago.

Hands shaking she pushed the mouse toward the name and clicked.

Three sentences appeared, asking how she was, offering congratulations on the birth of Zach and apologies for not staying in touch.

Kate read the sentences over and over, the tone of his words so easy and natural she had to keep reminding herself that she hadn’t heard his voice in a long time. It wasn’t until she looked at the last sentence that her breath caught as she read his real reason for writing.

“I’m separated, Kate. Do you think we could talk?” and then right before his name closed the note, “I miss you.”

The memories came hard and fast, the sweet kisses and thoughts of his hands all over her warming her more than the blanket covering her, so much so that when Zach’s cries from his bedroom drifted down the stairs her own eyes welled up with what could have been.

14 Responses to Guest Fiction from Kir from The Kir Corner

  1. STAT AWAY FROM HIM!

    wait this is fiction. Crap, sorry.

    Love the contemporary feel. She’s commenting blogs and reading the facebook. She’s already relatable. very easy read, K, and I want more.

    • Oh Lance, you know she can’t stay away from a man from her past. ;)

      Thank you for this comment, I like that she feels real and relatable…that will help me continue writing her. I just appreciate you coming over and reading it. :)

  2. Oh, Kir. You capture the frustration and loneliness of being alone with a three year old, of feeling invisible.

    She’s in a vulnerable place….and I hope her husband reminds her of why they feel in love in the first place.

    I loved Cam’s intro. I feel the same way.

    • Nancy! thank you so much for coming over and reading. I say it all the time, but it makes my day to see your comments.

      I hate to say that her husband doesn’t recognize anything is wrong right now, but it’s going to push her to contemplate “what could have been”

      and you saying that you “feel the same”as Cam’s introduction is making me a weepy mess. xo

  3. Cam, I will never, ever be able to say thank you for that intro. Anyone who is reading this today, please know that I adore this TALENTED and AMAZING friend who let my inadequate words sit here today. I feel honored just to KNOW her.

    thank you my friend…I’m completely thrilled to be here with Kate.

  4. When can we have more? I really wanted to keep reading. It was just so engaging and so easy to relate to. I have a three year old and all the tantrums that come with it…

    • HI Susi
      thank you so much, I’m so glad you’re enjoying it and find it relatable and real.

      ummm, Friday. I’ll have Gathering Buttercups on my site on Friday. :)

      Your comment made me smile :)

  5. So in one post, I’m cheering for Cam, for Kir, and for Kate.
    That’s a whole lot of cheering going on…

    And it’s not even Friday ;-)
    Well done!

  6. This a very “real” feeling piece. It could be any woman, any where. I love getting a peek into Kate’s real world and seeing what pushes her to seek those things from her past.

    Small critique: the second paragraph is a little clunky. I feel like the sentences are half thoughts so it’s difficult to follow. And the following paragraph is a bit rough. Could you some fixing…perhaps read it aloud so you can get a feel for the flow?

    Last little thing: a lot of your sentences begin with ‘ing’ words. It gets a little repetitive

    • Noted on both things. I will work on both of them and try to make the 2nd paragraph less clunky. I have already made some changes in my mind while I was reading it today..I need to cut things or show more..so I’m right with you..it needs a heavy hand right now. (see what I do with no word limits ;)

      As always thank you for the honest feedback.

  7. Cam, you have given me an AWESOME idea to deal with an upcoming 2 week vacation and the fear of letting my blog wither and die during that time :)

    Thank you!

  8. Ah, the past can look the brightest when we’re feeling vulnerable. Makes us forget why it’s the PAST and not the future. I worry for Kate!

  9. Kir, what a great job. Again! I felt the reality of her experiences with the baby was so spot on, and I think the fact that you didn’t dwell on the broken relationship with her husband was perfect. It showed she was tired how apathetic she was toward their disconnection.

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