The art of Change

I closed the broken laptop “done” I said as I adjusted the cover. I breathed in and glanced out the window, at that moment I realized how much writing the novel had consumed me. I had forgotten to smell the roses along the way.

I had spent the last year inside my story, inside my characters, they were after all a part of me. I stretched my legs; the window was ajar enough to let a slight breeze catch my dress. I paced around the room, What if it’s no good? I looked at my laptop. I sat on the chair tapping my fingernails on the cover.

Drops on the windowpane caught my eye, each drop chased each other down the glass. What if it’s rejected? I noticed a tear in the pastel blue wallpaper that bothered me, why hadn’t I noticed that before? I walked over and tore it, that was a mistake because now it was no longer a minor tear but rather a chunk missing.

I must buy some paint on the weekend and remove this hideous wallpaper. The wavy pattern made me dizzy, I sat on my bed. A pleasant earthy smell blew into the room, a mixture of rain and grass. I reached for my laptop and placed it on the bed beside me. The character May in my novel would have said You don’t know if you don’t try, she was optimistic unlike me.

All that work could be for nothing, but was it nothing? I wiped the drops from the laptop. The door swung open, it was Carly, I share the house with her although I wish I hadn’t.

“You still in here writing that crap?”

“I’ve just finished”

“Well good for you” she smirked “It’ll never get published, it’s probably not good enough”

She swung her hair around and walked out. I don’t know why it bothered me, but it did. Maybe she was right. I traced my finger around the sunflower print on my bedspread. The bright yellow curtains didn’t match the wallpaper but I didn’t think of that when I wanted to bring joy into the room.

“I’m going out” said Carly, she stood in the doorway “All you do is sit in this room”

Good! I hope you don’t come back; I should have said… but didn’t. May would have said that. I wished I could have ripped her from the pages and she could replace Carly. I opened the laptop; it was her fault… Carly. She wanted to use my laptop when I was in the middle of writing and I told her to wait she got impatient and yanked the laptop from my grip and it broke, she laughed.

She never apologized and I never brought it up, I don’t like conflict. I have to live with her. I searched for publishers in Australia accepting manuscripts, I found one. I attached my manuscript to the email and sent it. I crossed my fingers like it would help somehow.

I laid back and closed my eyes. I must have fallen asleep because I was startled by a slamming sound. The window had fallen. I wiped the desk with my hand. My notebook was soaked, it was ruined, I threw it in the small metal bin and wiped my hands on my t-shirt.

I staggered into the kitchen and stood at the fridge, my eyes were blurry, I squeezed them together. The clock on the wall read 12:05 am. Carly stomped into the kitchen and slammed her bag down on the bench, a lipstick rolled out.

“I’m never going out those girls again” she bumped me out of the way “What have you been doing… typing your stupid stories all night”

“You know, you’re not a nice person” I walked out

Carli followed me to my bedroom “Don’t talk to me like that, remember whose house this is”

She wobbled in her red heels at the door. I didn’t say another word, I didn’t want the situation to escalate. Her black mascara smeared under her eyes and her smudged red lipstick. “Oh, and I need to borrow your laptop tomorrow” she closed the door. Hasn’t she looked in the mirror, I wondered.

I sat at my desk and opened the laptop to check my emails even though I knew it was too soon for a response if I ever get one at all. Still nothing, I went to bed. My thoughts kept me up most of the night, I should have been happy that I’d finished my story but I’m not, who will read it.

With each passing day I check for that email but nothing, soon weeks pass. I sigh and look out my window, I felt stuck inside this room. I avoided Carli most of the week, all she does is complain. I placed my hand on the window sill and felt the warmth on the glass.

It came to me that I had not eaten a thing all day, I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was bare, just a block of cheese and milk for her coffee that she drinks constantly. It was her week to do the shopping. I looked in the cupboard to find bread and an open box of cornflakes.

I poured the milk into the bowl of cornflakes and grabbed a spoon; I head back to my room. Carli was inside.

“I’m taking this” holding the laptop.

I ignored her and sat at my desk; she stood over my shoulder “I hope you didn’t use all the milk”.

She left the room; I took a deep breath. I pushed the cornflakes around inside the bowl with the spoon, I scooped up the cornflakes; some had already soaked in the milk too long, they weren’t as crunchy as I would have liked, I sat the spoon in the bowl.

Later that night I heard the front door slam, I rushed to Carli’s bedroom to look for the laptop. Her room was painted in a light beige and the walls were decorated in framed pictures, one above her bed of herself, I thought that was strange. The laptop sat on top of her bed, I grabbed it and left. She’d never let me in her room.

The laptop cover had a deep scratch running across it. Did she do that?

I checked my emails. A million tiny caterpillars crawled across my skin. I received an email… the email. I took a deep breath and clicked on it. They thanked me for my manuscript and wanted to publish, the caterpillars on my skin turned into butterflies.

I had the best sleep that night. In the morning I grabbed my laptop and slammed open Carli’s bedroom door, she jolted and sat up in her bed.

“What the hell!”

I threw the laptop at the end of her bed “You broke it and you can get it fixed”

“Get out of my room”

“Oh, and I’m moving out too”

“What?” she rubbed her eyes

“You heard me”

“How will I pay for everything?”

“That’s your problem”

I held onto the doorknob “And by the way, my book is getting published”

I shut the door. I smiled. My first book is a success.

I opened my cupboard and picked out my favourite dress, I was saving it for a special occasion and this was it. I tied my hair into a high ponytail. On the way out I grabbed the only green apple from the fruit bowl, I bit a chunk out of it, it was sour but I didn’t mind. I stood on the porch and looked at that one cloud in the sky floating aimlessly. I imagined myself floating next to that cloud.

Six months later, I am awakened to the sound of a bird whistling next to my open window. I sat up and stretched my arms above my head. I was surrounded by soft fluffy pillows. I got out of bed and opened my ivory curtains. Beside me on the vintage nightstand was my book embodied in a crisp white cover. I picked it up and held it to my chest… Who would have thought a book could change my life.