Same Old Story

“Are you going to submit your manuscript?”

“Yeah! Of course!” Jenna reassured Rebecca for the tenth time this month. It seemed silly for Rebecca to repeatedly ask the question, but supposedly Jenna had the same devotion to writing as she did. It seemed odd that her passionate and action-oriented friend would commit to something and not do it. Considering her pattern, though, the pit in Rebecca’s belly gave her little room for comfort.

“In order to win the Brave Writers Scholarship,” Rebecca reminded her friend, “you have to submit a completed manuscript before the 31^st.”

Jenna waved her hand while examining the newest brand of scented lotion at their favorite scents store, Honey and Lava Works. Their girls outing morphed from exited smiles to a dismissive aura within less than thirty minutes. Rebecca knew of Jenna’s love for exploration and enticement, but responsibilities didn’t care if you had an errand to make.

The Brave Writers Scholarship is offered by their university. First place winners receive a $3,000 reward, publication at a New York Publishing house, a year long subscription to the school’s magazine, and year long marketing support to help the writer on their publishing endeavors. Second and third place winners received just as great stuff, but first place was the goal.

As English majors, Rebecca and Jenna agree to send in their applications together. Despite the two having less than a month to complete their manuscript at the time, they agreed to see it through. Two months passed since the announcement and Rebecca was 5,000 words away from completing her women’s fiction novel. Jenna barely finished chapter 1.

Jenna’s strapped for cash and depended on her wealthy husband to care for her needs. According to Jenna, money wouldn’t be a problem if the man wasn’t so stingy and demanding. Her grades weren’t the best and being on academic probation didn’t scare Jenna enough to leap into action. Considering the wellbeing of her best friend of 3 years was on the line, it made sense for Rebecca to invest more time to help Jenna. The pit in her gut grew with each passing day.

“We can go to a café later, if you want. I brought my laptop with me.”

“Yeah! I want to try a new drink anyway!” After the two finished shopping, they headed to a local café and stole the only table with an outlet. When Rebecca pulled out her laptop, Jenna’s eyebrows furrowed. “I-I thought we were trying the new coffee.”

“Yes,” Rebecca tilted her head, “and we’re also getting some work done. Your story is connected to your laptop, right?”

“…Yes?”

“So, you can write down some ideas and get your story finished.” The plan was fool proof, and their outing was the perfect time for Jenna to disconnect from her family and responsibilities.

Jenna looked around aimlessly then leaned on her chair and crossed her arms and legs. “Yeah, but the ideas haven’t come to me yet. They definitely will. And when they do, I’ll get my story done.”

Weeks passed and the end of the month drew near. Rebecca kept to herself in her dorm and chatted with her roommate. They didn’t bother her very much, but on the 29^th of December, Becca’s roommate knocked on her cracked door. “Knock, knock.”

An expert multi-tasker, Rebecca answered without ceasing her buzzing fingers. “Come in.”

“Have you heard back from Jenna?”

“No.” Any text that Becca gave was seen and ignored. Jenna had moods where she wouldn’t reply to messages that displeased her. So, if Jenna did message, Rebecca kept her on read as well. “Why?”

“She shared a picture of herself in Florida with her husband.”

Rebecca stopped typing. “Isn’t class tonight?”

Her roommate nodded. Rebecca shook her head and continued typing. Her roommate left without another word.

Negligent wouldn’t be the right word to describe Jenna. The woman made promises left and right and only kept the ones that were most important to her – promises to her husband and close relatives. Promises to friends flew out the window and they’d just have to “accept it.” She’d place her bets and promises on her doing something and then she wouldn’t do it. She claimed that she was distracted, yet she had more than enough time and energy to shop and hang out with friends. Investing in something seemed to be a possibility until a deadline was involved. Then, it was someone else’s fault if she didn’t get something done.

Last year, their university held a self-paced Editors Course that was certified by the state’s editing association. We had to finish the course in 5 months. Extensions were an additional $100. Applicants were granted 3 extensions only. Jenna not only missed all of her deadlines and paid for all 3 extensions, pushing the course out to almost a whole year, but she blamed the school for having the deadlines in the first place.

Another occurrence of this was when the two went to a book signing for their favorite fantasy author. The first 100 people got a special poster signed by the author. Rebecca suggested being in the library, where the event took place, at least two hours early. Jenna suggested getting coffee first. Thankfully, Rebecca took her own advice and received her poster, her signed book, and a picture with the author. Jenna ended up not only missing the signing, but she blamed her husband (who she’d been talking to for more than an hour) and the author for such inconvenient timing.

Becca chalked all these occurrences as “quirks” of Jenna’s. This time around, if Rebecca predicted this correctly, Jenna’s upcoming reaction would not be a quirk.

Winter break came and gone and by mid-January, an email arrived in the inboxes of all scholarship applicants. There were over 300 applicants – such a short number! – and the winners would be announced by the beginning of March. This email was only shared with those that applied.

One day in mid-February, Rebecca’s phone rang while she walked back to her dorm. She ungloved her hand and readjusted the books in her hand before answering. “Yes, hello?”

“Becca! Where is the link to upload the manuscripts?”

Rebecca stopped her walk then stepped to the side of the crosswalk. The people beside her passed by without a word or a single look. “Well,” she started, “the deadline was December 31^st. The manuscripts are being judged right now.”

“That’s great, but where’s the link?”

“Jenna, the scholarship is over. You missed your chance to submit.”

Silence laid on the other end of the line. Then, there was Jenna’s frustratedly heavy sigh. “So, the school doesn’t offer extensions? They should have warned people about when deadlines were.”

Experience showed Rebecca that reminding Jenna of their many manuscript-talks in December would lead to being ignored and a potential argument. “It’s unfortunate, but the best thing you can do is apply to something else.”

“No, you know what? I’m writing a letter to the Dean. He should be more accommodating to his students, especially his mentally disabled ones.”

Rebecca nearly dropped her jaw and her phone. “What?”

“I’ve been struggling with my attention issues and my ADHD is taking my attention away.”

“What?”

“I should have been given more time to complete the manuscript and the Dean should know that students like me need more encouragement and help in this department.”

Hang up, Becca thought. Just hang up.

“Jenna, I’ve got to go.”

Within a second, she asked, “You’re going to help me write the letter, right?”

She hung up.