A big writing day after 8PM, which is when I finally get to escape the details of work and try to escape into some kind of plot. I’ve been big on dialog today. Lots of word count in dialog 🙂 Here’s a rough (read: unedited) bit from today’s writing:
As the days stretched into weeks, the aides took to the Irishman, feeding him meals on the side when he came in from a late night at work looking hungry. He appreciated that, but even more, he knew they were paying more attention to Rose, combing her hair, moving her limbs back and forth in the relentless daily physical therapy, and, as he liked to put it, treating Rose like a real person.
So are you her brother or her lover, one of the sassier aides asked him after the first week.
Neither, he said, but for the love of God, don’t tell the case workers that. They wouldn’t talk to me for a second if if they knew the truth.
Honey, those case workers don’t like talking to anybody but the doctors and the insurance companies, and I think they don’t even like that much human contact. The aide laughed at her own joke as she gently rolled Rose onto one side then the other, changing the sheets beneath her.
I hear you, Daniel replied. They don’t seem like they like their job very much at all.
They worked in companionable silence after the bed-making was finished, Daniel on Rose’s left and the aide on her right, following the PT’s instructions on stretching out Rose’s tendons to make sure things still worked when she woke up.
Everyone else says “if” she wakes up, Daniel said, half-aloud. I think I’m the only one that says “when she wakes up.”