Fire Starter [FICTION]

"My mother always told me not to play with fire." 

I tried to follow her advice. Well, after I grew older and realized the wisdom in benefitting from her experience, I did. Of course, she chain-smoked for most of her adult life, so you can’t blame me for neglecting this one nugget of wisdom.

I didn’t set out to perform an impromptu circus act. My dear friend Carlotta will assure you that I am just a magnet for unique life events. Then she’ll say something tragically dark, roll her eyes, and skulk off to hide in the shadows.  In fact, had she not done so that evening, I might not be around to tell this tale.

“Telle, stop being so dull,” Carlotta rolled her eyes and flicked some lacquer at me.

“I was born dull,” I frowned at her, regretting my choice to help her refinish cabinets in her store instead of catching up on my pile of books.

She smirked, “That’s not what your mom said.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I have the shoulders of a linebacker. I know.”

Like most moms, mine found cause to remind me of every time I broke her heart, particularly around Mother’s Day. What better fuel to earn more thoughtful gifts than a painful delivery?

“Well, I love that you use those broad shoulders to help me out, so get to work,” she flicked a little more paint my way to motivate me.

“Do that again and your luck will run out,” I mumbled as my focus returned to the shelf before me.

“Where did you find that painter’s smock anyway? It looks like it got lost on the way to the 70s.”

“Be nice to Smockie. She was my mother’s.”

“Your mother was way too cool to name her clothes.”

I stuck out my tongue.

“Which leads me to believe you didn’t let her know you named this treasure.”

“Hmmph!” She wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t going to admit that aloud.

We resumed our work. As the project neared its conclusion, I stopped to stretch my aching muscles. The Fates picked that moment to taunt their favorite mortal—me. The store plunged into darkness.

“Hello, darkness, my old friend,” Carlotta whispered at my side.

Startled, I squealed and dropped my paintbrush. It clacked against the wood floor at my feet. Reflexively, I bent to retrieve it, plunking my hand into the bucket of paint thinner we pulled out for cleanup.

“Seriously?” I hissed.

“What did you do?” Carlotta’s voice carried a surprising nuance of concern.

“Found the paint thinner,” I offered cheerfully.

“Maybe you should look for a light instead.”

“It’s your store.” I fired back.

“Yeah. It isn’t stocked yet. I saw how many pockets that smock has. See what your mom left you.”

I wanted to protest, but I had only remembered the smock and pulled it out when Carlotta roped me into this project. Luckily, remnants of perfume clung to it more than the ashy aroma of cigarettes. I systematically patted the pockets, relieved to find a familiar shape in the third one I tried.

“Matches!” I exclaimed in triumph, opening the pack to tear one off and strike it.

Those keeping track will remember some details I forgot. I already had splashes of lacquer on my clothes. Then I doused my hand in paint thinner and rubbed it all over myself as I checked my pockets. I didn’t produce the soft glow of a single match. I turned myself into a human torch.

As I lit up her store, I saw Carlotta with her mouth half open to tell me not to light that match. The terror on her face fueled my own. My bare feet carried me through the front door. My hands tore at the ties to my smock and the wraparound dress underneath until I could cast the fireball onto the asphalt.

And that's how I ended up in the middle of Main Street—naked.

~~~

Sometimes I have to resurrect Carlotta. She was very popular or at least infamous in the creative writing class I keep alluding to. Of course, my fictionalized version of myself has a charm all her own and a few habits I don’t share. Those who really know me have an idea of what I mean.

And, of course, I had to mention mom with Mother’s Day having just passed. You could say Mother’s Day is in my blood and you wouldn’t be wrong. If you missed your mama this past weekend, I promise you were not alone and she misses you, too.

[RANTINGS] Private Pain

I've been struggling with this post for a number of months now. I'm never quite sure I have used the right words, but I decided to put it out there for the world to see and critique. Feel free to let me know if I need to clarify. My thoughts jump around too much for me to trust that I have said everything I meant to say.

Some mornings, I scroll through the posts my friends have left on social networking sites and cringe. They spill out their most private and personal pain for everyone to see. Sometimes I am overwhelmed with sadness for them and sometimes I am weary from reading posts like this from the same people every day. I know many people just seek friends to lend the courage to keep going when life kicks them in the teeth. Friends can then offer anything from physical assistance to words of comfort or reassurance. Not everyone is brave or open enough to reveal their private lives to so many eyes, but that doesn't negate their pain or their trials.

Sadly, some of my friends break down at every small trial that they face. They require so much attention that they tell everyone about hangnails, breakups, and other personal disasters with so much regularity that I've become immune to their woes. Maybe I don't understand because I  ride the opposite end of the spectrum. I tend not to share much of what happens in my world. From new cars to rejection letters, I question how interested people are in my daily activities. And for those pains that may hit more deeply, deep enough to break my heart, I hold those even closer. I don't need a dozen people trying to make my pain about them in some way or telling me to just get over it because it happens to everyone. I'd rather share my joys than my sadness, but that doesn't mean I don't understand private pain.

People receive rejection letters, get waylaid by heartbreak, catch the flu, lose loved ones, and suffer more critical medical emergencies every day. I don't want a play by play of someone else's stomach flu, complete with details of what came out when they coughed. I do appreciate updates if their condition improves or worsens, but sometimes I feel like the extremely detailed accounts are meant to inspire me to throw money or service at their problems. If you need help, please ask. We should be brave enough to ask people outright if we want someone to  check on us, remind us that we are loved, bring us a meal, or help in some other way. Too often, people inundate us with details that leave their friends confused and then get mad when no one rushes to offer help.

I actually like to be left alone when I am sick. Whether I am trying to wrap my heart and head around a loss or revealing my stomach contents to the porcelain throne, I firmly believe the world doesn't need to be subjected to the unpleasantness that comes with my illnesses. I appreciate friends that love me and worry about me, but making the trek from the bed to the door doesn't make me feel better. I have also found that even when I give more information than a simple "I'm sick," people fail to pay attention to my outright statements of need. When I had a stomach flu that made eating solid foods, let alone keeping them down, impossible, three people brought me enough meals to feed a healthy person for a week. That food sat in my fridge for a week without me being able to force down a single bite. I appreciated the thought but felt bad about the wasted food.

In order to avoid awkward conversations when my mother passed, I made a blanket announcement on facebook. Despite informing people that I wouldn't be responding to phone calls, emails, and posts on social media, well-wishers inundated me with well-meaning lectures on my wall, phone calls that led to people being offended when I politely answered in case it was an emergency and then didn't bawl for them, and unnecessarily long comments on how they felt about my pain. I really didn't care for any of that. I may have been more receptive a week later, but at the time, I decided to ignore the uninvited guests to my private pity party. And, of course, some people haven't talked to me since I didn't validate their existence by thanking them for canned platitudes. (Am I terrible for not missing them?)

Lately, my mind turned toward the private pain of others. I keep my thoughts to myself because I know I can't say anything to make it better. I've also resisted the urge to just grab them and hug them until the pain goes away because that would be a super long, not to mention awkward.

So maybe some of the things I wish I could say to those friends will help someone else who stumbles upon this page:

1) You are not alone. Someone is here for you. If you are my friend, I am here for you. I may not always understand, and I will probably try to fix it with baked goods and bad jokes, but I am here for you and I love you. And even if I don't know you, you have your own Bella who loves you very much (and a Heavenly Father who loves you more than our human hearts can understand).

2) I know that people offer you lots of advice or tell you their story. They know you don't want advice. They know your story probably won't turn out exactly like theirs did. What you should hear when their story starts out something like, "In my experience..." or "When I was in a similar situation..." is "I love you. I don't completely understand everything you are going through, but I still wish I could help, even if it is just by wiping away those tears, so I am telling you how things turned out better than I thought  they would for me to offer you hope. Not to tell you that you are living your life wrong or making the wrong choices, but to let you know I love you and am here for you."

3) Please try to stop us before we make you angry or make you cry. I would sincerely hope that is never someone's intent when they bring up whatever subject brings such pain to your heart. Sometimes people just keep talking to fill that empty awkward silence or ask questions because they want to understand.

4) Let people help you. I touched on this before. If people aren't quick to offer help, don't assume they don't care. All people aren't graced with the ability to just know what is needed. Don't be ashamed or afraid to ask if you truly need help. Your friends will be happy to help as best they can. (I should point out that wanting someone to be at your beck and call every day of the week may be taking things too far. Sadly, this has happened to me in the past, and most people will stop answering when you cry wolf too often. To be clear, I know people who have recurring health problems and could use daily help. I refer to those who just want daily reassurance that they are the most important person in their friend's life.)

5) I must offer my unsolicited feelings somewhere, so consider yourself warned about this one. When life doesn't go the way we planned, it leads us to where we need to be. Look back a little, those of you have some years behind you. Think about all the things you ever wanted. Now focus on the ones you didn't get. How many of them were such a big loss that you didn't live without them? (I lived without having to clean up after that pony, without dating or marrying those boys I once found so charming who still haven't grown into men, without getting that super sexy car that I would have just parked in a garage and buffed with a diaper for fear of it getting scratched or dented, and without joining the circus--though this last one is still a possibility).

As for the rest of us:

1) Be more aware of how your friends are responding to your advice and sympathies. If they are getting noticeably annoyed, stop talking or change the subject. Offer to take them out for ice cream. Let them lead the conversation. If they want to talk about it they will. Sometimes we just want the companionship of someone who loves us.

2) When you hear that someone you don't really know has lost a loved one, got rejected by the college of their choice, or still hasn't attained their next life goal (graduation, marriage, baby, a promotion, retirement), don't assume they need you to guide them through it. Please leave that up to people that are closer to them unless they come to you for help. Unsolicited advice from casual acquaintances rarely helps a situation or makes the intended recipient feel better.

3) Make sure friends who struggle know you are there for them. Use your best judgment as to how to tell them and how often to remind them. Sometimes just knowing that someone is there to talk, want to help distract with activities you both enjoy, or just bake cookies and let you eat them in peace, can offer the greatest comfort.

4) Sometimes, a small act of service can say more than our words. One of my friends spends more than her fair share of time in the hospital. I find myself wishing I lived closer than two thousand miles away, so I convince her husband to let me clean and a tidy their house a little in her absence.

5) Remember that not everyone is just like you. Tailor your behavior to the person you want to comfort. (I find that prayer helps with that, but my thoughts on that might push this post into the preachy category.)