An envelope was waiting for Erin at the door to her apartment. It was wedged between the door, and frame. There was no address written on it, and no stamp. Hand delivered, then, she quickly deduced. The front simply had her name hand-written on it in a bold script.
She recognized her father’s handwriting immediately. She seized it from the door, and stepped into her apartment. Tossing her jacket over the back of a nearby chair, she flopped onto her bed and regarded the missive from her parents. What the hell do they want? If I were smart, I’d just burn it. Instead, she opened the envelope, and read the letter inside.
Your mother and I were very surprised to see that you had been out wearing the armor last night. You made it clear that you weren’t going to pursue those career options when you had yourself emancipated. Does this mean you’ve changed your mind? If so, might you change your mind about some of your other decisions?
We saw an article in the paper about an apartment fire where at least one hero helped rescue several people from the flames. Was that you? Were you working with Keller?
We would love nothing more than to help you resume your career. You’re always welcome to come home. But if you’re working with Keller, and don’t want to come home, please remember that we own the name ‘Amazon’ as well as the visual design of the armor. If you’re working with Keller again, then we need to sit down and come to some arrangement for compensation for your use of our property.
I know this sounds harsh, but your mother and I are only doing what we think is best for our family – and that includes you. We’ll be hoping to hear back from you.
Please, come home. Are we so bad that you’d rather live in a place like this?
By the time she reached the bottom of the page, Erin’s jaw was hanging wide open. “Are you so bad?! Yes, you are,” she exclaimed to nobody in particular. “In the same breath you ask me to come home, and threaten to sue me if you don’t like what I’m doing.” She crumpled the paper into a ball, hurling it across the room and then lay still on her bed for several minutes.
Turning her head, she saw the time and cursed. Why is it that family has such a talent for driving you up the wall when you don’t have time to cope with it? Rolling off the bed, she trudged to the bathroom to start her shower, and begin preparing for work.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
I've noticed that there's a particular mood, or mindset that I reach when I'm having a good night writing. It helps me tune everything else out, and it feels like my fingers are struggling to keep up with the words. I've been having a hard time reaching that over the past week or so. The past couple nights have been more of a trial. (Go figure.)
But tonight I hit a vein of words, and mined it. It wasn't my biggest night, but that's fine. If it helps me get back into that mindset again more regularly it doesn't have to be. I think my writing's better, and I know I get more done when that's the case.
Tonight, I'm focusing in a little more on Erin's life beyond the superheroics, or even beyond the support group. She's got work and school to juggle along with the night-life that's slowly pulling her back in. But when she arrives at her apartment to get ready for work, she finds a letter from her Dad wedged between the door and frame.
I think it goes without saying that she's got family issues? Well, we all do. It's one of the few universal certainties. But the courts actually had to get involved in Erin's issues with her parents. Erin's parents are like the parents who force their kids into music, sports, or beauty competitions, but taken to the very small extreme who try to turn their child into their meal ticket. But they do care about her - all the other stuff has just gotten in the way, and her winning legal emancipation from her parents was a blow to their pride - and that never stops smarting.
Tonight's Word Count: 906
Total Word Count: 27,124