How Not to Adult: Early draft-chapters 1-2

This is my first attempt at a novel. Any and all feedback is welcome. (I am aware that comic sans appears juvenile, but my dyslexic brain hates it the least)

Nobody actually tells you how to adult. You’re just expected to pick it up along the way as you grow from your teens, into your twenties and through your thirties until you suddenly find yourself a metaphorical charred carcass smoldering in the ruins of what should have been the prime of your life.  For me, the initial spark came from a guy. Yes, I know, how stereotypical of me, but its true. I was absolutely, completely and dangerously drawn to him. He was like a siren and his song, apparently, captivated me so completely that I forgot who I was. There was no ship for me to crash, but I willingly drowned nonetheless.  I can’t event blame him, you know, because really, if I’m being honest, and that’s what this is all about, it was me. I willingly put my life in his hands and then, for a very long time, believed he was the one who sailed my ship straight for the reef.

 

1

I suppose I should start when I thought that my life was at a high. I was in my mid-20s and loving life. I thought I had it all: a great job as a veterinarian, my dream job; a house that I could not believe I was able to afford the mortgage on; a great group of friends with Jane as my focal point, we had been friends from day 1 at high school; and the loves of my life, my two dogs Merry and Pippin.

I had been working at Marsh Veterinary Surgery for two years and had settled into a great routine. While I was at work, I got to help heal sick or injured animals, people’s babies, their life companions, and nothing made my day more than when I was able to send someone home with their beloved pet, healthy or on the way to healing.

One day, I had just sent the Johnsons home with their poodle, Fortnight (they let the kids name him) giving me the evil eyes because I bestowed upon him the Cone of Shame -- it was the third time I had seen Jeff that week for the same problem; he wouldn’t leave the stitches on his leg alone, so we had to resort to the cone�"when my the director of the surgery called me into her office. I could tell by her face that this was not going to be a pleasant meeting for me. I sat, my leg twitching and my fingers working at my nails a million miles a minute, but kept my face calm and open.

“Caroline” she started, “how many times did the Johnsons come in this week? “

“This was their third visit.” I stated, a little confused that she was focusing on the Johnsons and Fortnight. “Is that a problem?”

“Well, not if the Johnsons are flush with cash that they don’t mind wasting.” She gave me a pointed look. “Why was he back here three times? You performed a very minor procedure. He should be running through the meadows by now.”

“Well, he kept pulling his stitches out. I had to replace them again today.” I was really getting confused as to why she was still speaking to me like I had done something wrong. Had I done something wrong? I have never been one to stew, so I just came out with it. “Have I done something wrong?”

“Not necessarily wrong, but short-sighted.” She sighed. She had said these words to me more than once in the two years I was working with her. “You know this dog. You know he will chew through the protective sock and bandage to get at his stitches. Why not give him the cone from day one?”

Ah, so I had done something wrong. “I was working with the Johnsons, who don’t like to put him in it; he really does hate it.”  I stated, not defending myself, but starting to feel emotional that my judgement was being questioned.

“Next time, just be firm with them. Tell them that he must wear it from the outset and save them the money and us the time that could be better used seeing to other animals in this very busy and very oversubscribed surgery.”

For a second or two, I could only nod at this; I was afraid that if I spoke right away, that wobbly feeling that was wavering in my chest might fall out of my mouth and sound like tears. This was definitely not something to get upset about. After a very large swallow, I managed to say clearly without any wobble in my voice. “Yes. Got it. It won’t happen again.” She nodded once and I was dismissed. Well, that was just how I wanted my day to finish. Luckily, I didn’t have to pretend to be OK with anyone else. I headed to the back, changed into my home clothes (we wear scrubs during surgery), located my phone and found Jane on Whatsapp.

Just had another ‘Caroline fucked up’ conversation with Dictator Director Carlson.

Jane:

What did you do this time, smile at a customer who’s hamster you just ‘put to sleep’?

Not even close! I didn’t insist on the Cone of Shame! (frowning sad emoji)

Jane:

Ugh! Well, I’ve got a bottle of in wine the fridge and I’ll swing by Dalucci’s for a large pepperoni. See you in an hour.

Make it 2, I’ve got to walk the Hobbits.

You’re an absolute star! What would I do without you?

Jane:

Wallow in self pitty, pizza-less and wine-less. (Winky face emoji) See you soon.

That was the thing about Jane. She was always there when I needed her. She just knew! She also lived the next street over from me so even if we finished the bottle of wine she brought, and the one I myself had in the fridge, she would walk home�"or stay the night, which was also a regular occurrence with us. She also got that I needed my time walking Merry and Pippin, my two mongrels. Even if Jane wasn’t coming over for emergency pizza night, I would have been fine after taking them on their walk. We went through the field, through the woods, around Greenhead Park and back again. That took a good hour, if not an hour and half if they were feeling extra mischievous. (Seriously, what was I thinking when I named them? Didn’t I know they’d be trouble?!)

I was fine by the time Jane got to mine, but I cheerfully accepted her company and offering of comfort pizza nonetheless. I do clearly remember her asking if I was happy working as a vet. My response was “of course!” because I really did love it; I just didn’t like being pulled up on every tiny error I made.

“Well, we can forget all about it tomorrow night; we’re not staying in; we’re having a girls’ night. You need to DANCE those blues away!”

“You’ve already texted the girls, haven’t you?” I responded, with a smirk on my face. She merely smiled in response as she put her coat on to walk home.

2.

I’ve slipped into reminiscing about Jane and my dogs rather than getting to the point. So here it goes. Take a deep breath, Caroline. The guy. The one I said was where everything started from. Ben Smith. My siren who I willingly drowned my own self for. The strange thing is that when I first met him, I did not find anything even remotely interesting about him. I only met him by chance. Jane had managed to bully me into getting a savings account. I know, I know, a 20-something woman with a successful career, making a good salary without even a savings account is heresy. Heresy to the Gods of Finance and Modern Living. At least that’s how Jane made it seem. She did have some good points. I did just keep all my money in my current account and didn’t even have a credit card. (I saw my mum cause my dad to literally age overnight when the credit card bills came in. She was eventually cut off, and they were cut up.) So needless to say, that whole adulting thing I was talking about earlier, my parents didn’t exactly prepare me in the financial department. It’s not their fault; they were just s**t at money. My response was to just hoard all my money, like a dragon, in one place. When I let that slip to Jane, she lost her mind, and rightfully so. So the next day, I got a very cheeky text from her that simply said “It’s time to adult-up!” just before a confirmation text came through for a meeting at the bank with a Benjamin Smith. How the hell she managed it she has still not told me, but she did.

I never quite understood Ben’s role at the bank, but he was very good at it because he was crazy good with numbers and was also great with people. I think part of it was that when you met him, you weren’t intimidated by him. He was average. Aggressively so. Average height, average build, average looks. Dark hair, dark eyes, generally fit and healthy, but not toned. He wore glasses and drove your average, as Top Gear would say, ‘Reasonably Priced Car’. Most people didn’t see past that average; they didn’t want to. The result was that he had a wide group of acquaintances, but not many people he would call friends. There were a few select people, and they were fiercely loyal to him.

Needless to say, when I walked into that meeting, I had the same impression as most: he was an average guy. He stood an indicated that I should take a seat and we got down to it. I could tell that he was with Jane in his opinion on my financial management, or rather the lack thereof. By the end of the meeting, I not only had a savings account, and a credit card, but also an upgraded current account that is designed for adults, not the basic account I had opened in my teens when I got my first part-time job. He had also called my mortgage holder, and renegotiated, while on the phone with me, a better interest rate. The man singlehandedly organised my financial life in neat little folders, with labels. Literally. He handed me a folder and walked me through a 6 month plan to add to my savings while still paying my student loans and mortgage. When I left, he shook my hand and that was it. There were no fireworks, no irresistible pull, no invisible tether that became increasingly taut the further I was from him. None of that exaggerated BS that you read about in romance novels. Instead, I just found myself thinking about him and how he just seemed like a good guy.

Reviews

[willweb]

I will be honest, I did not think I was going to enjoy this as much as I did. This was fun to read. I enjoyed the characters in this and the story makes me want to know more about this Ben White and what he did...wrong. : ) It has grabbed me it seems and not to go into too much here, I see a second set of chapters has been posted so I will make my way over there.

I do however want to mention that I did catch a few minor grammatical errors if you would like me to point them out to you? Otherwise, see you on the next page.

[New Yorkshire]

Thank you for your thoughts; I'm really glad that you liked it, especially since you weren't sure.

Any grammatical errors you catch, please do share. It is a first draft, so there are bound to be quite a few.

[Coyote Poetry]

I liked the personal feel of the story. Allowing the reader to fall into the life of the character. I liked her outlook and how you described her life. Thank you for sharing the amazing story.
Coyote

[New Yorkshire]

Thank you! I'm really glad you liked it. :)

[Coyote Poetry]

I did and you are welcome.

[DIVYA]

Sometimes, in life, the unremarkable becomes special. Everything need not start off with a blast. Sometimes, great things happen quietly.

In Ben's case, it's his average that became so attractive mainly because he seems so unassuming, humble and yet so meticulous at details. He obviously loves his work and is very competent and that's another very attractive quality in men.

I loved your narration of the story, the point you make and the conclusion which is so feel good. This was a great story to read.

[New Yorkshire]

Thank you so much! I really appreciate the feedback. Especially on the character of Ben; I sometimes feel that I never quite get my male characters to come across as authentic.

I'm really glad you liked it! I'll continue to update a few chapters as I go along.

[DIVYA]

I'll look forward to reading the new chapters. You're most welcome.