Extemporize

 

This month’s prompt is to write something summery. This week’s story comes from the pen of Phil Yeats.

In April 2024, Phil published The Body on Karli’s Beach, the third book in his Barrettsport Mysteries, a series of soft-boiled mysteries set in a fictional South Shore, Nova Scotia town. For information about these books, The Road to Environmental Armageddon, his trilogy about the hazards of ignoring human-induced climate change, and his latest, a novella titled Starting Over Again: A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy visit his website: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/.

 

Extemporize

by Phil Yeats

 

Their group leader and all but one participant perched on wooden chairs arrayed in a circle.

“… and in summary, that’s it,” said the lone standing participant with a grin, before nodding toward the group leader and reclaiming his chair.

“No, no, no!” said their leader. “I asked you to extemporize on summery, s-u-m-m-E-r-y, not summary. Try again.”

The participant’s chair legs scraped on the wooden floor as he regained his feet.

“Hot, sticky, so bright it makes me sneeze. You may like that summery feel, but I can do without it.”

“Perfect! Describes summery with a personal perspective and gives your reaction in twenty words. Who’s next?”

 

The session ended an hour later, and our hero, an involuntary participant who enjoyed baiting the group leader, hurried away. Most of the others remained to consume the tea and cookies provided by the social welfare department.

Outside the building in the bright sun, he sneezed six times. About average, he thought, as his eyes adjusted to the sun’s intense glare. A young woman stepped in front of him. He blinked four times as he tried to bring her image into focus.

“William Burke, don’t you recognize me?”

He blinked three more times. “Do now. I helped you get through your Math 100 course in first year. I hardly saw you in later years and never since.”

“Exactly, and we need to catch up. Can we, like, go to the Tim’s that’s just up the street for a coffee?”

“I guess. Or we could go back inside and drink the social welfare department’s tea.”

“Coffee at Tim’s would be better.”

 

“What can I do for you?” William asked when she placed two coffees on the small plastic table. “Not help with another math course.”

She laughed. “Your help with my program’s math requirement got me through first year. After that, I stumbled along, doing too much partying and too little studying. With my undistinguished BA, I got an entry-level government job in the social welfare department. I’ve moved up one rung in their world in seven years and been thrown over by two guys who I thought were the loves of my life.”

William held up his hand to interrupt her sob story. Mention of the social welfare depart made him wary. Telling him about being thrown over by lovers made him ready to flee. He was a loner, by choice, not by necessity, with a well-paid job, one that was interesting and occasionally challenging. Two side-hustles occupied his limited free time. The last thing he needed was a ‘commitment’.

“Where do I come into this story?” he asked.

“One of my jobs was to compile attendance records for our various sessions.”

“Including access to the ‘client’ files?”

She shook her head. “Just names, addresses, phone numbers, and whether they are voluntary or involuntary participants…”

Her hesitation meant she had something else to say, something she was reluctant to mention. “But?”

“I overheard your group leader calling you antisocial, uncooperative, and aggressive.”

“Asocial rather than antisocial, but their lexicon doesn’t appear to include that word. I enjoy baiting that fool of a social worker, so I suppose that could lead to calling me uncooperative, but aggressive? No way, I’m aggressive. I live my life my way and I always avoid causing anyone any trouble.”

“But your file says no fixed address, but you’re obviously not a homeless person. How do you explain that?”

He sighed after finishing the coffee she’d bought him. “An aspect of my desire to live a simple life alone, without complications. I can’t explain it in a few minutes.”

“Then tonight, after I get off work. You choose the place and I’ll pay.”

He shook his head. “Tonight at seven would work for me, but you choose and I’ll pay.”

 

The Spot Writers:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com/

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/