Due to some other posts that took precedence last week, I didn’t write fiction. As usual – I’m sitting down with little idea of what I’m going to write, but I’m staying with Vivi. Who knows if I’ll ever get to her connection to Ivy… But that’s still my intention.
You should probably read Vivian’s Roots and then the continuation for the sake of context.
Losing Sam at such a young age was one of Vivi’s greatest regrets. And it was the only one that ever made her feel bitter. To her way of thinking, if you didn’t have any regrets in life, then you didn’t expect very much for yourself. And Vivi’s child bride expectations could have eclipsed the grandeur of Notre Dame at sunset…of the New York skyline at twilight…of any helicopter ride through Hawaiian rainbows. She had see all of those things. With Sam. And not one of them compared to her hopes for their future.
At the very least, she had expected that they’d grow old together.
When your husband drops dead of a brain aneurysm at age 49, you can’t help but have a few bitter moments of regret.
But Vivi chose not to linger over long in those melancholy moments. As much as she would have given anything to rewrite that one piece of history, she was far too committed to her own life to live for Sam’s death. Limbo wasn’t a place for the likes of her.
She never did anything halfway and she gave grief her full attention when it was new. She stayed in bed for weeks on end and planned to follow Sam within the year. Mama of course rolled her eyes and said “Vivi honey – do you have any idea when first act will be over? As soon as it’s intermission, I’m going to need a drink.“
While this would have sounded shocking to anyone outside of the family, it always made Vivi throw back her head and laugh. A deep belly laugh. Another off kilter response that bonded them as mother and daughter…I’ll see your insensitive quip and raise you an inappropriate peal of laughter.
Ethel was never known for her brains, but it was just this kind of comment that hinted at her considerably sharp wit. And not for the first time, Vivi wondered what Mama would have been like in life if she actually cared enough to participate.
Fourteen years ago, Vivi’s surprised laugh was dry and brief, and it flew into a thousand papery wisps as soon as it left her throat. There is no music in bitter laughter.
But it did wake her up a little. And she realized that no amount of overly dramatic posturing would make the terrible truth any less real. She couldn’t play the tragic heroine or victim because this wasn’t the stage. There was no audience save herself, and she preferred something a bit lighter.
She who was always said to be so full of life then made the predictable choice to go on living. It wasn’t what she had wanted or expected for herself. But Mama was right – the show must go on. So she got out of bed, made the old bitch a drink and started considering her next twist of plot.
Still enjoying the fiction, and speaking of a drink..,
Ooh fabulous Kate. You should consider turning this into a book and sending it around to publishers or agents or something. I'm totally hooked.
More, more,bring on more Vivi!
I love that last line! This is a refreshing idea–the blog fiction series.
"Vivi's surprised laugh was dry and brief, and it flew into a thousand papery whisps as soon as it left her throat. There is no music in bitter laughter."
Beautifully written. :)
Seriously, where is that book contract? Hmmmm?
Seriously good stuff.
I agree with Christy!
"Vivi wondered what Mama would have been like in life if she actually cared enough to participate."
Great line. I think I'm going to like Vivi's mother best of all (said in my best Dorothy voice).
Love it, Kate!
Love it. Keep it going.
"I'll see your insensitive quip and raise you an inappropriate peal of laughter."
LOVED that line.