Chapter One

Katherine flies home from Los Angeles to New York a day early. She is worried about her depressed husband.

Chapter One

 

                A black Camry heads south on Interstate 405 and takes the Florence Avenue exit towards LAX.  The radio is playing the news. Katherine Samuelsson snaps off the radio as she turns into the Hertz rental car.  She drops the keys in the return slot, gathers her bags and waits at the shuttle bus stop.  Digging deep in her designer bag she pulls out her iPhone and makes a call.

                “You’ve reached John Samuelsson.  Please leave a message.”

                “John it’s me again.  I’m getting worried.  I haven’t heard from you since Friday night.  Listen I’m coming back a day early.  I told Sandy that you weren’t feeling well.   Can you believe she was a total b***h about it?   Look John, I’m starting to freak out over here.  Why haven’t you called me?  Not even a text since I left on Friday.  I’ll be home in a few hours.  Please let me know you’re okay.  You've been acting really strange and I’m worried about you.  You know I love you, right?  I have a funny feeling and I’m worried.  I’m coming home, sweetheart.  I love you.  I’ll be in the air so you can’t call but do leave me a message and let me know you’re okay.  Shuttle is here.  Gotta’ go now.  Love you.”

               

                Seven and a half hours later a black Lincoln Town Car pulls to the curb in front of a co-op apartment across from Washington Park in a young, upwardly mobile neighborhood in Brooklyn.   Katherine slides her heavy carry-on to the curb and looks up at the dark window of her fourth floor apartment.  A winter breeze blowing off the Hudson River feels especially cold tonight.  Her heart drops.  Feelings of terror and panic turn quickly into anger.  Thoughts she had been avoiding for weeks come rushing in. 

Was John having an affair?  Katherine had been checking his messages and looking through his email.  She felt terrible about it but he wouldn’t talk to her so what else could she do?  They had only been married two years and she still felt passionately for her husband.  John was one of the youngest staff reporters at the New York Times.  Last February John suddenly took a leave of absence.  He now spends his days doing God-knows-what with God-knows-who.  At night John is buried deep in his MacBook with a headset on.  He barely sleeps.  He lost interest in friends, family and lately even sex.  He barely showers and often falls asleep at his desk or on the couch. 

Is he depressed, Katherine wonders. Does he not love me anymore?  Is he gay and struggling with his sexuality?  Was he on drugs of some kind? Why won’t he talk to me?

Katherine found nothing on his email or phone that would suggest there was someone else.  Just the usual work related calls, interviews, background research.   John hadn’t published an article in over a year.  He still works every day.  What is he doing with all that material?  Where does he go all day? Why wasn’t he publishing anything? 

Katherine jiggles her key into the deadbolt, drops her bags to the floor and pulls back hard on the front door knob.  The familiarity of their quirky old door makes her feel at home and soothes her nerves worn from days of worry.  She pulls back just enough to loosen the door while applying pressure on the key.  The deadbolt slides back, unlocking the door.  She turns the knob and pushes the door open.  Familiar smells emerge from a quiet darkness.  In the silence she hears the hum of the refrigerator and the smell of lavender potpourri she bought while holiday shopping.  Her high heels thunk loudly against the hard wood floors.   She lifts her carry on so the wheels won’t leave marks.  They had the floors redone when they bought the place right after they got married and she is still protective of the glossy finish.  She sets her keys down on the coffee table and drops her bags.  Using the street light coming through cracks in the closed blinds she reaches a nearby lamp and turns the small knob clockwise until it clicks twice.  The lamp comes on with a warm glow that illuminates their expertly decorated apartment. 

“Oh my God John.”

John is lying on his side next to his desk in a pool of his own vomit mixed with dark, syrupy blood.  Empty bottles of Makers Mark whiskey litter his desk and floor.  His breathing is faint and slow.

“John, wake up!” Katherine gently shakes his shoulder while trying not to gag from the vomit and blood surrounding his head.   Memories of college sorority parties rush in.  She never could stand the smell of vomit. 

But this vomit doesn’t smell, she thought.  And where is the blood coming from?  Is John sick?

Katherine palpates John’s carotid artery.  His pulse is slow and weak.

                “Baby, what did you do?”  Katherine softly whimpers reaching for the strap on her bag and pulling it across the floor to where she is kneeling next to her husband.  Pulling out her iPhone she dials 911. 

 

~ ~ ~

Author's Note

I'd like to get some feedback about my writing style, quality, and overall skill. Is this publishable material? If so, I'll upload another chapter. The books gets dense with dialog in subsequent chapters.

Reviews

[Dan Hiland]

The structure is solid. The story has a good hook at the beginning- where is the car going; Who is Katherine, and what is happening with John? Lots of good description, as well. This chapter is short, but ends suspensefully.
Suggestions: Trim the first section of dialogue down, and make it sound more realistic. People under stress don't always form complete sentences, in person or on the phone. The talk sounds a little too polished. It starts to direct my attention away from the protagonist and toward the writer.
Also, there are some verb tense shifts that don't fit in: "Katherine gently shakes his shoulder", followed a couple lines later by "she thought". Some of them are appropriate since they are tied to flashbacks, but some are not. It's one of the hazards encountered when writing in present tense- but have you experimented with past tense, as well? Just a thought...
This last comment may seem trivial, but: I would remove product and brand names like Camry, Lincoln Town Car, and iPhone. Late adopters like me (who are not familiar with the iPhone yet), and those who aren't up on the newer car models, will have a much easier time visualizing scenes if you just say "She pulled out her phone and dialed 911..." Same goes for the cars. Describe them more generically. That way the reader will not get distracted, and your story won't become dated quite as soon due to technology advances.
Lastly, I'm a beginning writer myself, so I'll understand if you disagree with my comments.
I'll take a look at the other chapter and tell you what I think.
Thanks for sharing.