Friday, October 26, 2012

Guest Post: Saving Timmy by Janelle Lee

I know absolutely nothing about forget-me-nots, parachuting or where Kazakhstan is. I have a fear of heights and I get sea sick. Writing found me when I was in Year 2, and the best story ever written was beaten out by a boy who received the creative writing award I am still bitter about that although I did manage to relieve him of all his marbles at lunchtime so all was not lost. I spent a lot of time outside the principal’s office where I would be punished by writing…  They would even supply the stationery.

I wrote another best ever story in Year 9 unfortunately I was in Geography and my epee wielding teacher didn’t appreciate my epic tale of the rogue geography teacher going on a rampage with an epee.  All my pleas that it wasn’t about her fell on deaf ears.

Passing notes in class I took as a challenge. All my contributions were in red… to indicate all the spelling and grammatical errors.

~Saving Tim~

 Tim O'Flaherty's boyhood dream was to become a pilot but that dream was shattered on September 11th, 2001. Fleeing the country in an attempt to rid himself of the guilt and pain, he soon realizes there's no escaping the nightmare. He arrives in Australia where he finds a deep connection with Bondi Beach, a place where the goal of becoming a lifeguard is what drives him now. And when he saves a woman from drowning, he inadvertently saves himself.


Tim O’Flaherty kissed his wife’s stomach before running his hand down her face. “Love you.” “Love you.” He kissed the tip of her nose with affection.

“You didn’t have to get up, Tim, it is early.”

He smiled. How she thought anyone could sleep through her morning routine was beyond him.
Dana made enough noise in getting ready, to wake the dead. Her dropping of the soap came with a cry of anguish and sometimes a few choice words. This was followed by the ritual of slamming the vanity doors in search of her hairbrush, which she lost everyday even though it was always in the same spot.

But it was the humming not only to herself that had his eyes rolling and gritting his teeth. This week it was Hero by someone called Enrique Iglesias. It was her favorite song. He was over hearing it. She would hum and then suddenly belt out an “I can be your hero, baby.” He chuckled to himself.

Dana would have a new favorite this time next week. He pitied the poor artist whose song she would show favoritism to and then promptly murder it. He loved her dearly but she was tone deaf and at times he wished he was deaf. Tim bit into the toast as he juggled the coffee pot and the morning paper. Getting up at 6.30am wasn’t what he had planned but now that he was up he would use the time wisely.

The Dow was down. He shrugged. He wasn’t surprised to read that the greenback dipped, it would seem, in sympathy.

“I am hoping to get an earlier flight. Can’t you do something?” she called from the living room. The rustling of paperwork suggested to him that she couldn’t find her keys.

He suppressed his laugh. He knew she was normally flat out making her scheduled flight let alone trying for an earlier one. “No. I got the last seat for you. I pulled in a favour to get that.”

She came to the doorway and scowled her disapproval. He suppressed his laugh for the second time. She looked twelve when she scowled.

Being a pilot afforded him the luxury of manipulating a few days leave. Swapping his shifts around this week was so that he could complete the transaction of signing off on the house that they were purchasing.Otherwise he would have been in Boston getting ready to fly to Los Angeles. He preferred the shorter flights to the long haul flights now especially with the baby coming.He didn’t want her going anywhere but she wanted to go.

“I won’t be able to travel soon. This will be my last trip for a while.” She had told him when he voiced his concerns. “I don’t get to see my parents often, Tim.”

He gave up and made her promise that she wouldn’t be helping her father with his satellite installation business.

“You are such a worry wart and so damn handsome.”

And a sucker too, he had told himself, a big one.“I have to go into work,” Dana said as she held the keys up triumphantly.

“You do?”

“Yes,” she sighed.

 “I forget the budget forecast and they need it before the 10 o’clock meeting. I am such a scatterbrain lately.”

Scatterbrain was the buzzword she bandied about for her forgetfulness. He thought blaming the pregnancy was in poor form. She insisted that scatterbrain pregnancy was a real condition.

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