The Initials of Clara and Stanley a short story by rebecca sorens Smashwords Edition Copyright 2012 Rebecca Sorens cover also by Rebecca Sorens cover photo by Mike Coombes at http://brightonpeople.wordpress.com/2008/05/26/this-is-brighton/ If you like this story you can have it for free. Good comments are appreciated on my Smashwords profile page or blog at http://rebeccasorens.blogspot.com . Look for “cozy mystery” called "Henry Loses Her Beau" chick sleuth novel set in Oregon, coming as Ebook Smashwords edition -- E-book length novel of Henry (short for Henrietta) the graphic designer who meets a man who may be Mr. Right (finally). She hears that he committed suicide but she knows this can't be true, he would have been too eager to see her again. So what happened? Did someone murder him? The Initials of Clara and Stanley I’m Clara. I’m 15. I’m scratching C + S in the wood on the arm of the chair that was my grandmother’s. On the left arm of the chair, I can reach across with my right hand and carve my initial C plus Stanley’s S. More like scratch than carve, because the wood is hard. The initials are kind of square instead of curvy like I want them. C plus S, but all in little straight lines. My mom will be mad. She’ll probably give the chair to Goodwill and then I won’t have the initials carved into it. Boys carve into trees in the woods, but no one takes the trees to Goodwill. If you can find the tree again, you can go back and see the arrow through a heart with your initials. You can feel it carved in the bark. At least until someone comes and cuts down the tree and there they go, initials, heart, tree and all. The S for Stanley is my boyfriend. He’s kind of a nerdy guy. I wonder if he would carve our initials in a tree in the woods. He doesn’t go to the woods much, so even if he would, which I doubt, he wouldn’t have much chance to do it. The chair is upholstered in a green print - back, sides, and cushion, but with wood along the arms and back. My mom likes the chair, that’s why she took it from grandma’s. I know better than to deface the furniture, and I’m not sure why I’m doing it to my grandmother’s chair since I loved her very much and vice-versa. My mom wants to get me away from Stanley and she doesn’t even know him. Just because my mom’s had no luck with men, she is sure that any boys hanging with me will destroy my life. She’s completely lost faith in Prince Charmings. I met Stanley in a class for retards. Just kidding! But we both failed sophomore English except I was a lot better than him. After class we walked to the park together and sat on the bench outside the swimming pool. He is a skateboarder and a geek. I’m kind of fat, but I like to talk and I can play the guitar, so Stanley and I hit it off. We were both broke of course, so we walked around and hung out in the park, but we don’t smoke, either of us. Stanley lives with his dad who’s a veteran who drinks non-alcoholic beer and watches TV a lot, but he quit smoking. His dad reads books, but I don’t think he works much. His mom went away a long time ago. I live with my mom, and my dad went away too, so me and Stanley have a lot in common. Mom’s home, I hear the car pull in and the door open. I let out my breath when she plops down on the sofa and kicks off her shoes. She says “Hi, how’re you honey? Nice to see you home. She rubs her legs, then grins, “What’s for dinner?” cause she knows I don’t have the faintest thought about dinner. But maybe I’ll help. “Don’t know mom, guess I could help you put something together.” “Really?” Her eyebrows rise, “What’s up with you?” Does something have to be the matter for me to help with dinner? I don’t SAY that and I’m trying for her not to notice the scratching on the arm of the chair. She looks at the paring knife that’s in my hand even though I’m trying to hide it, then she looks at me, “You aren’t cutting yourself are you?” She actually sounds worried. “I’ve heard that’s one of the latest things that teenagers do. You’re not THAT mixed up are you? Or sad?” Then her eyes move to the chair. “Damn” She only swears once in awhile for the shock value. “Goddammit Clara what did you do that for? You know that was Granma Noni’s chair.” And then she bursts into tears. “Damn,” now it s my turn to swear, even if I don’t say it out loud. “Hey mom, I didn’t mean anything personal by it. I didn’t realize it was Noni’s chair until it was too late.” “Sure,” she says, sarcastic like. “How could you not realize that?” But she sounds more kinda just bummed out about her life and having to go to work when she’d rather stay home and vacuum. I go over and sit on the edge of the couch about a foot away. “I’ll help with dinner and maybe I can fix the chair. I only put mine and Stanley’s initials on it.” ‘You did?” She looks at me sideways out of her bleary eyes. I thought she’d be even more mad when she knew what I’d carved, but she just stares at me. “Yeah” I answer, “But maybe I can fix it with some wood stain or glue or something.” “Why didn’t you carve into a tree, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?” I look at her, my eyes must of gotten big, “That’s what I was just thinking. I was wondering if Stanley would carve my initials into a tree. I decided he wouldn’t.” I look at the floor, “He might.” “Well, I hope he wouldn’t carve into an antique - at least sentimentally antique – piece of furniture at his house.” “His dad doesn’t have any furniture worth carving on.” “I think you’d better call Stanley right now so he can help you fix the chair.” “No way,” I jump up and screech. “I don’t want him to know I did that.” “He probably wouldn’t even figure out what it is unless you told him.” She taps her foot on the rug, “Although I think you’re right, that would be embarrassing.” “Really, mom, you’re not too mad at me?” “Yes I am, so call him and tell him to come over to eat, and then you and I’ll make macaroni and cheese for dinner. With a salad.” Stanley comes on over after I call him. He kind of lopes, I think that’s the word, like a long-legged wolf, don’t they lope? I haven’t been watching the series on HBO. But Stanley isn’t sexy enough to be a werewolf, or a vampire, for that matter. “Hey Stanley, come on in,” I say when I see him at the screen door. Our entry way is sort of a porch. From the sides of the porch and on up is glass, so it would be a sun porch except there’s as much junk as there are plants. We’ve got some azaleas in the yard. “Hey Clare” he says, as he lopes on in, dropping the ‘a’ on the end of my name cause he’s so lazy. “Hi Stanley,” my mom calls out from the kitchen. “Make yourself at home, we’ll have macaroni and cheese in a minute.” She comes out in an apron like in some 50’s re-run. I’m hiding my head but when I take a peek, Stanley is looking at the floor but then looks at her with goopey eyes, you know, like he’s amazed to see a mom in an apron. I pull on his arm, “Come in here and sit down. Here’s some magazines to look at,” and I go to get the plates out of the cabinet and the silverware from the drawer. I call out, “Mom, do you want napkins?” She says, “Paper will do, hon.” I wonder why she’s being so nice, must be some trick she’s going to come up with. From the kitchen she says, “Stanley you like macaroni and cheese don’t you?” “Yes ma’am” he says. “I eat pretty much anything.” “There’s salad too. Clara has a surprise after dinner.” She walks into the living room, I stand still and watch her. “I asked Clara to have you come and help her with a project.” A flash of worry, or fright, crosses his face in a flash, but then it’s gone. “What’s that Mrs. James?” Now, don’t you worry about it, I’m sure you and Clara can handle it. Can’t you honey?” and she smiles over at me while I’m standing there holding the forks. “Yeah, sure,” I say and I’m wondering if my mom isn’t some evil witch-queen from the HBO movies I’m missing, just disguised as a normal nice mom. Maybe she’s going to suck my blood after she makes me die by scaring Stanley away. Because for sure he is going to be scared shitless when he sees what’s on the chair and figures out that I did it. I’ll never see him again. He’s going to disappear like a werewolf in drag. I’m not feeling too hungry. But when we sit down to eat I can’t help eating macaroni and cheese. She puts extra cheese in it and the salad is good too with garlic bread. We’ve even got ice tea with mint leaves in it. Stanley takes second helpings of everything. We all clear off the table then my mom directs Stanley to sit in Granma Noni’s chair. He doesn’t even register the C plus S on the arm, right where he puts his hand, or maybe he does. He smiles and rubs the initials. But I think he’s too dumb to figure out what they are. His initial plus mine for God’s sake. My mom says she’ll take us to hike in the state park next weekend, the trail that goes up the mountain. Lots of trees, she says. “What’s the project?” Stanley asks. I’d forgotten about that. It looked like my mom had too, her face went kinda blank for a minute. “Oh, maybe we can identify native plants for ecology class, help bring up Clara’s grade.” “Yeah,” Stanley says, “Cool. I could use that too.” My mom gets up to close the curtains but she just stands there staring out the window. It’s still daylight outside and I can see the neighbor houses. She says, “Someone carved mine and his initials in a tree once in that park. Wonder if it could still be there.” Since she can’t see me, I look at Stanley and make the crazy sign with my hand, twirling my finger around my ear to show she’s weird. http://rebeccasorens.blogspot.com http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/rebeccasorens