Day 19: 32,052 Words... Maeve takes control

 I still have more writing to do today, but I thought I would post something from yesterday's writing. As expected, Gordon's dissertation is proving more useful than anyone ever anticipated. I have been doing some writing about the Donnie's River Reunion special- trying to get to know the relationships between Danae, Josh, and James. James and Danae are friends and I needed to establish that. And I am super unclear about what happens between Danae and Josh- so I am gradually trying to uncover that.

Later today, I will pick up from this spot, where Maeve begins to take control over what is happening at the Inn:

“Stop drinking that cocktail themed wine!” she whispered harshly, which unfortunately drew the attention of one of the drunk teenage employees. He made a beeline for them, a bottle of wine raised in his hands and a sharkish grin on his face.

               “Can I offer you more wine?” he asked, speaking through his threatening grin. It was less of a question, more of a directive. Maeve smiled her sweetest smile, and lifted the lid of her Daddy’s Sippy Cup wine glass.

               “Yes, please!” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “I love the taste of the weekend, yum!” It was perhaps a bit much, but it seemed to appease the drunk employee, who refilled their glasses and moved on. James was still looking at her, his eyes beginning to clear. He smacked his lips together, his mouth making a faint moue of disgust.

               “This doesn’t taste like the weekend,” he said quietly.

               “No, it doesn’t. Now get me that dissertation.”

James reached beneath his seat and grabbed the stack of papers. They were lucky that the teenage employees had not confiscated it, but then, so many people underestimate the power of a doctoral dissertation. He passed it to her, and she began flipping through the document, scanning, until she found what she was looking for.

‘the adolescent psyche is particularly well suited to navigating liminal spaces, although it is simultaneously particularly prone to becoming ensnared by its charms, given the adolescent’s emotional immaturity,’ she scoffed at this as she read, looking around the room at a whole pile of emotionally immature adults, but she continued to read. “… in virtually all cultures across time and space, adolescence is marked by a ‘rite of passage’ for good reason. Adolescence is a liminal period of time, in which the youth tries on various ontologies, pushing back against the wisdom of elders, noting moral and logical contradictions present within a culture’s epistemology. This is both necessary and vital to the long term well being of any cultural group. The group can ignore the wisdom of young people at its own peril, for to do so will certainly lead to epistemological and literal death. The kids truly are alright.”

               She knew what she had to do. When she spoke next, she spoke clearly and with authority, with no trace of self-doubt.

               “Alright people, play time’s over. Take your seats and shut your mouths. It’s time to get serious about healing.”

Here is a short excerpt from today- the inclusion of the snowball with a dagger in it:

Later, Danae would think often of that time in her life, and the writing she did, which had easily been the best of her career. She would understand something about the vulnerability she had connected with to achieve writing that intimate- and she would understand that the path there had been laid by her own tears. Her own pain had unlocked something within her that was usually tightly guarded and locked up tight. It had allowed her insight into the humanity of each of her subjects that she never forgot- but never intended to revisit again. It was a treacherous path to walk, one laden with razor blades, spikes and snow balls with daggers hidden within their icy depths. One chooses to walk such a path at one’s own peril. And Danae, a relentless survivor, knew better.