Years of Longing By Erin Rosswell

“Alright, thank you. You have a good day now. Thanks.” 

Another call done and dealt with. I swear, I’ve only got seven minutes left of my shift, please…please in the name of Jesus Cringles, not another call. I’m so ready to pass out on my bed. Alas, got a couple more dollars to make today. On the plus side, the mortgage should be dealt with. Now I just have every other payment to make. I wish the economy would up and die. At least I’d have an excuse to be financially underperforming. 

Oop, phone just buzzed. Bright Blue? 

Damn. No, just an email. 

“A reminder to all our valued Trusty Care office employees, our quarter review meeting is today at 8:45 PM.”

Not like you haven’t reminded me enough. Christ…

“Erin?”

Crap. 

“I’m sorry, bud, not now, give me about five minutes, okay? Should be almost done here.”

Nothing back. I feel weird when he leaves the conversation to drift like that. Makes me feel like I’m the bad guy for trying to keep this roof so hard. 

Come on, just a few more minutes….just let me be free, free at last. God, did I just say that…

No call, no call, no callll, aaaand…yes!

Okayyy, done. Logged out. There goes two thirds of the daily tedium. Next one starts in…shit, like an hour. No rest for the weary, or the hungry. I need something to munch on. 

Let’s see, what do we have…umm….alright, straggling tortilla chips, come to Mama. Not much, but hey, if Da Vinci could make it with 30 minute naps, I can make it on 5 hour ones and some stale chips. Oh, man…staler than I thought. Ah well, it’ll have to do. 

Ah, there he is. 

“Hiii, bud! I’m sorry, I just needed to finish. I didn’t get any last minute calls, if you can believe it!”

“...”

Okayyy, one of those days, huh…

“Come down here, bud. You wanna talk?”

Slow walking, slinking down into the chair…yep, it’s another one of those days. God…mom, help me here.

“So, umm…how was school?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“No...uhhh...homework or anything?”

“...No.”

“Did you…do it all in class?”

“...No.”

“Ah, okay. What have you been doing in there?”

“...drawing.”

Drawing, okay. That’s something I can work with.

“Ah, what were you drawing, bud?”

“...”

“Hey, bud.”

There’s that Medusa look again…

“What umm…what were you drawing?”

“...just doodling.”

“Hey, that’s a lot more than I can do. Hehehehe”

“...”

“Well, bud, you know, we have the weekend coming up. I’m free tomorrow. Maybe you and I can do something.”

“...don’t call me bud.”

Oh, now the mumbles…oh, mom, how’d you do it?

“I’m sorry, what was…”

“Don’t call me bud.”

“Oh…I’m…I’m sorry.”

“...no...no…I’m…I’m sorry….”

“Oh, Brent…come here…”

Oh, thank goodness. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay. Listen, tomorrow, you and I will go to a museum or something, alright? Does that sound fun?”

“.....mhmm.”

“Atta boy. Now, I’m going to have to get ready to go out, but what do you say I bring you back a comic?” 

“...okayyy.”

“Hey, what is that, a smile? Is that a little grin on your face?”

“...maybe…”

“Come on, with those whites peeking at me? You’re out of your mind!” 

Ah, a good laugh. It’s about time our relationship looked up. 

Still, I wish I could be better for you, bud. For her. 

“Alright, alright, why don’t you go back and doodle for a while? When I’m gone, you can have a snack in the pantry, if you want! Watch a movie!”

“Like what…”

“What about Cars, you love that one, don’t you?”

“Pftt, come on…I haven’t liked that since I was 9.”

“Admit ittt, you still hold a soft spot for it! I’ve heard you humming "Life is a Highway” in your room before!” 

“...I just…like that song.”

“Mhmmm.”

“Whaattt?”

“I’m just teasing you, Brent. Put on whatever adult movie you want.”

“...Kill Bill it is.”

Gasp Without me?? That little turd. Ah well, at least I gave him something.

Ah, shit, 45 minutes till my shift, I better get going.

On the road again….traffic gods be gracious. 

#

“Miss Rosswell….Miss Rosswell!”

Ah, fuck me. How long was I out?

“Huh…oh…oh I’m…I’m sorry, long day, sir.”

“Indeed…”

Why’d he say it like that? You ain’t a damn mafia boss, cool your jets. 

“Well, anyway, that concludes our quarter review. Thank you everyone for your contributions, and on behalf of Trusty Care, I sincerely hope that we can…”

Blah, blah, blah…just let me back to work. 

“Any further questions?”

Yeah, I got one, what the hell am I doing here…

Finally, that boring shit is out of the way. I hope that short siesta didn’t affect anything.

“Hey, ma’am! Excuse me!”

Oh, God, new guy. Please don’t flirt with me. Last thing I need is getting booted on account of your horniness. 

“Umm...yeah, can I…can I help you?”

“Yeah, umm…I mean, I just wanted to say, you’re Rosswell, right?”

“Yep. Last I checked.”

“Like…as in…Paul Rosswell? The author?”

Busted.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s umm…well, he was my dad.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry about that.”

“No, no, it’s okay. It was a while ago.”

“What happened to him? I really liked that one novel, Great Beginnings? It’s quite an interesting experiment with how it’s structured.”

“Umm…well, he had a lot going on inside, and, well, you can probably guess.”

“Oh, man…so sorry. I can’t imagine.”

“It’s…it’s fine, really.”

“Have you ever thought about writing like him?”

“Oh, yesss, quite a lot. I haven’t just thought, I…umm…”

“You’ve got some stuff written?! Are you published?”

“Not exactly. Although I’m trying to be.”

“Who’ve you got lined up?”

“Excuse me?”

“A publisher, you got any on your radar? Any that you’re contacting?”

“Oh, umm, Bright Blue Publishing. Been in touch with them lately.”

“Huh. Submitted anything to them?”

“Yeah, short story collection. Just waiting to see what they say.”

“What about a novel?”

“Yeah, I’ve been…working on one now and then for a while.”

“What’s it called?”

“Years of…Years of Longing.”

“Huh.”

Yeah, morse code for “shit title.”

“Look, it’s a work in progress. I'm not finished with it, I just haven’t had time to…”

“No, no, no, no, I wasn’t criticizing it at all! I think it’s awesome you’re working on a novel! I hope that collection goes through!”

“You and me both.”

“I’m sorry for taking up your time. I just…I had to see if you were really the Rosswell I was thinking of.”

Alright, back to work, at last. 

“Miss Rosswell.”

God damn, why am I so popular all of the sudden?

“Can you come see Mister Hunt in his office? He needs to talk to you. It shouldn’t be long.”

I don’t like the sound of that.

#

Home sweet home…God, I can barely think anymore. 

There he is. 

“Heyyy, bud! Sorry I’m late, I gotcha this Spawn issue!”

“Ooo! Nice!”

“I figured you’d dig that….”

Yawn Oh, man…

“...you okay, Erin?”

“Don’t worry about me, bud…Brent, sorry…I’m fine.”

“...Erin…please don’t lie.”

Nothing gets by him. 

“Okay, okay…they gave me the boot.”

“...fucking assholes.”

“Brent Rosswell!”

“Oh, don’t even. You’ve said way worse.”

“Point taken.”

Ohhh, why do these things happen to good people? Maybe this is His way of saying I’m a piece of shit.

“...I’m sorry, Erin.”

“Hey, no worries. I’ll bounce back.” 

“...what about going into…I don’t know…construction or something?”

“Oh yeah, do these ripped noodles look fit for that kind of work? Do they now?”

“...shut up.” 

“Hehehehe, hey, I’m flattered that you see me fit for that, honestly.”

Oop, phone again. Could it be…yes, it is. A response from Bright Blue Publishing. 

Man, fingers crossed. Let this go right, at least.

“Hello, Erin Rosswell. While we appreciated reviewing your submission, we unfortunately cannot accept it for our publication at this time. We hope you can submit to us again soon, and we wish you luck on your future endeavors.”

Welp. Serves me right for wishing, I suppose.

“...what now?”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t see the Kill Bill DVD out anywhere; did you watch it or what?”

“No…I watched Cars.”

“Ha! I knew you still liked that movie.” 

 “...I don’t.” 

“Well, what do you say we watch Kill Bill anyway, huh?”

“...I would like that.”

“Sweet! I could use some Uma Thurman kicking ass to relieve this shit show of a day.”

Another job lost. Another potential best seller in the toilet. When can I have a break…

“...Erin?”

“Yeah, Brent?”

“...you can call me bud, if you want to.”

“Hehehe. Nah, you’re all grown up now, I shouldn’t call you that.”

“...I…I kind of like it.”

“Ohhhh, you do? Really?”

“Nevermind, I don’t.”

“Ahh, what??”

“You ruined it.”

“Oh come onnn, I was…I was being sincere! I just didn’t expect that!”

“Well…somebody has to keep you on your toes.”

“Like I’m not already!”

Maybe I should pick that Years of Longing back up. I have to put something out, I have to. I’ll just have to commit more time to it. 

He seems alright. I think I can afford it. Hehe, maybe he can come up with a better title. 

I bet he could give me a great one. 

In the meantime, you give Copperhead the business, Kiddo.

#

Come on, brain, work with me…where do I go from here…she goes off to the city to make her way as an actress, stumbles through some bullshit, her man comes back, and now what? 

I guess this is why writers usually stick to their material day by day. Well this author can’t have that kind of luxury. 

God, have I written myself into a corner…am I going to have to redo half of this…

“...Erin, can I…”

“Bud, I can’t right now, okay?! I’m trying to…”

Oh, come on, you idiot. Don’t talk to him like that.

“I’m sorry, bud. What was it you wanted?”

“...never mind.”

Nice going, jerk. Ahh…well you better not make that for nothing…come on. 

You know what, don’t even think, just write how you feel it should go. Just let it out there.

What if this isn’t good enough? I don’t know if I can stomach another rejection at this point. 

Ah, an email. Might as well read it. Not making any progress here. 

“Welcome to HelpEd Tutors! Your application has been accepted, and we look forward to having you onboard!”

Well, there’s some good news, at least. All that work…so I can continue to piss my own dream away. 

No, no, I can’t talk like that. I can do this. I just need to keep at this. It’ll click. I’ll make this work. I know this can be good. 

I’ve got this…but man, this is hard. Is that…bad to feel? Should it be this hard? I don’t think he struggled like this. I don’t know, maybe I’m not…

No, enough with this rabbit hole. Just write, Erin. Just write. 

It’s what you were made for. 

#

10,000 words. A week-ish worth of work. Not bad, not bad at all. Shouldn’t be more than a few chapters left at this point. Honestly, I’m quite impressed with myself. I’ve never put this much down in such a small amount of time before. 

Small amount of time. God, I’m pathetic. A week of novel writing is nothing for a true writer. Heck, they do it for days and days, what’s my excuse? I’ve had this god damn thing floating around for I don’t even know how long anymore. I’m not even putting that much time into it. I literally can’t. 

I feel so weak. What the hell is going on? Why do I feel like shit? I don’t get it. 

Maybe I just need a quick bite. I’ve been going 40 pages deep at this point without one. Oh, but I leave for that, I might lose this…kill the momentum. I’m going to fuck up the whole story.

Ughhh, okay, fine, just a little meal. I think we’ve got some leftover pizza in the fridge from Thursday. 

“Oh, hey, bud.”

“...finally out?”

Here we go…

“Just…getting a bite.”

“...you don’t sound good.”

“What? No, I’m fine. Just a bit fatigued is all. I might go for a walk or something. You want to come with me?”

“...no, thank you.”

“Okay, well…if you’ll excuse me, I gotta get some slices. Unless you got to them first?”

“...saved you three.”

“Awww, bud…you didn’t have to…”

Damn. Did he…slam his door?

He’ll understand. When it’s done, he’ll get it. It’ll make him proud. I’d better leave him alone. I need the time anyway. 

Well…maybe I should…just a knock. See what’s up. 

Although, what if he curses me? What if I say something awful to him? Knowing me and my big mouth, it’s probable. I…no. 

Neither of us are in the right headspace. Not right now. 

I feel like I need a long nap, but I can’t. There’s too much to finish. 

After these slices, back to the grind.

#

“Do you honestly think you can reach the heights I couldn’t?

What the…where is…

“Look at you. So broken and fragile. You can’t even take care of yourself, let alone produce anything of note.”

Why is my Dad here…

“Did I give my life up for nothing?”

Dad…

“Did I?!”

Huh…what…oh, God…my head…stupid dream. Wait a minute, what time is….oh fuck! Shit! I’m late for customer service! God damn it, damn it, damn it! 

Why didn’t my alarm wake me? I have it set! Just my fucking luck…

Okay, okay, logging in. Maybe they won’t notice. 

Ohhhh, message on the group work chat, that’s not promising. 

where have you been? we’re getting bombarded over here, and you’re a no show. 

That’s about the exact opposite of not noticing. Curse my work ethic. 

if you have any hope of keeping your job, you need to do overtime to compensate for this. if not, I think they might boot you. 

Great, just great. Overtime on this crap, just what I wanted today. 

“...Erin?”

“What, what? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something? You know I’m supposed to work this stupid shit, why didn’t you jolt me up?” 

“...I was going to, but I…you needed sleep.”

“Oh, now you think you know what’s best for me? Well I’m the one who’s gotta do all this nonsense to provide for us, so why don’t you just, please, leave me be?”

“...okay.”

God, I just need to get this over with. Try to blast through it. Maybe I can save a couple minutes, all the more time to get that first draft done.

I’ve only got about four to six chapters worth of story to finish up. Then it’s off to peer review, and then the editors. They touch it up, maybe I try to save up for some professionals to help elevate it even further. 

I just have to work this stupid shift and then I can do it. 

I can make it happen. Bit by bit, it’s coming together.

I can…

Why haven’t I heard Brent’s door close yet? He’s usually back in there by now…

He’s not in his room. Okay, maybe he’s just downstairs playing or something. 

No, not down there. Alright, the backyard, it has to be. Has to be there.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no.

What did you do, Erin? God, what did you do? 

Where is he? Where is he? 

No, no, where are you, bud…

“Brent! Brent! Bud, where are you?!” 

God, no, not like him…

“Brent, please! Where are you?! Can you hear me?!”

He has to be around; he has to be….

“Brent!” 

Come on, think, where could he be? Where could he have gone? 

The park, that’s the only other place I can think…but why would he be there? God, I have to try…

“Brent! Brent!”

 “It’s your sister! If you can hear me, please answer me!”

“Brent!”

God, please….not you, too….

I lost him.

Now I’ve lost everything. 

Oh, bud….I’m so sorry….

“...Erin? Are you okay?”

“Oh my….oh, Brent! Bud, thank God, you’re okay!”

Bless the heavens…

“Bud, what…what are you doing out here?”

“It was…the only way I could get you out.”

“What do you…”

“Erin…I…I may not know much, but…I know you want to be a great author like Dad. I…I just don’t want you to lose yourself…like he did.”

“Oh, bud….I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to push you away so much, I just…I felt that I…”

“Erin…?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“I know that…you feel like a failure, but you’re not. Not to me, because…you don’t treat me like one. None of this was your fault…I know you’re just doing your best. You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I…I love you, bud…so much.”

“I love you too, sis.”

Oh, if only we could hug here the rest of today. 

“Sorry for taking you away from work…and for not…”

“Eh, fuck that service job. Hated it anyway. Come hell or high water, I’ll find something better.”

“I’d like that.”

Come on, Erin, pull yourself together. Wipe this god damn water off your face. 

“Come on, bud, let’s run down to the comic store.” 

“I’d like that, too!”

“Then we’ll get some ice cream, and tonight, we’ll rock to Black Sabbath!” 

“Heh, hell yeah.”

“Hehehehehe”