Hi writers! Welcome to the first full week of free-writing in our June Read/Write Challenge. Grab a book, choose a first line, and WRITE WORDS NOW!
“My meaning in saying he is a good man is to have you understand me that he is sufficient.” From “The Merchant of Venice,” by William Shakespeare, Act I, Scene 3.
* * *
“My meaning in saying he is a good man is to have you understand me that he is sufficient. Sufficient, as in, I cannot point to any one reason why you should not marry this man.”
“Okay.”
Madeline’s mother sat across the table, eyeing her over a narrow pair of frameless reading glasses on a thin gold chain. She nudged them up the bridge of her nose and returned to the brunch menu, suddenly gushing “Oooh, brioche waffles and duck leg confit, with bourbon-sherry maple syrup and fried quail eggs. Can you imagine, Maddy?”
Madeline didn’t respond.
“House-made Berkshire sausage and cheddar-sage biscuits. Honey-poached shrimp and locally milled grits. Really!”
It was as if just reading the items aloud was an acceptable substitute for physically indulging in them, something Madeline’s mother—looking trim and well-preserved in a salmon-pink wrap dress and real pearls—would never do. The waiter came and, after fawning some more over the elaborate concoctions (“Really so creative, so decadent!”) Madeline’s mother ordered a poached egg and toast.
Madeline ordered the same. The toast here really was exceptional. They brought it on a wood plank with salted butter and a tiny white jar of imported marmalade. The waiter turned to leave and, as a distraction or to delay the inevitable for one more minute, Madeline ordered two cappuccinos. Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Oh mom, splurge a little. It will save you from taking your calcium supplement.”
Her mother accepted this without comment, spread her napkin across her lap, and looked at Madeline, with the full intensity of her searching gaze; an intensity Madeline had been subjected to many times but had never grown accustomed to.
“He loves you, I suppose?” her mother asked plainly.
After just a half a beat: “Yes Mom, he loves me.”
The hum of conversation and the bump and clank of dishes being cleared from nearby tables filled the silence between them.
“And?”
“And what, Mom?”
“This is the part, dear, where you assure me that you love him too, more than anything in the world. That you cannot live without him and will marry him no matter what anyone says.”
“Yes,” Madeline said, slouching. “Well I do. I love him very much.”
Their eyes met and held each other. Madeline squirmed.
“Of course you do, dear.” The waiter brought their coffees. “My god, would you look at them! Big as soup bowls, Maddy. What a treat.”