MOTHER - SHIVANI KABRA

My Mother

I am lying here on my bed over the crisp linen sheets, staring at the blue ceiling of my square room that seems endless in some strange way. This is my favorite pastime, lying on the bed with my legs dangling down till the floor and just staring at empty space. It makes me feel so content, reminds me of all the happy times with mom.
She once told me about this little secret in that soft, nectar voice of hers “My angel Sherlyn, do you know angels have lots of bad days, God always tests them and in those times they should not lose their patience, they should be calm. You know, just go lie down in your most favorite spot and look up as if staring at heaven and smile as if smiling at God. He will come to know that you are the one who has no fear and can handle each situation gracefully and so he will come down Himself and help you find a solution in your troubled times.” I don’t know whether mom was telling me a fact, but one thing I am sure of; she had faith in goodness and I feel it too, as it works.
Oh my God! It is 8am already! I have an amazing knack to while away big chunks of time doing absolutely nothing, that too right on the day I have a major presentation at the office! And I really need to replace this bloody alarm clock, it has got the most annoying sound and well it is quite ugly too; the stuff that people manage to gift you!
Bugger! This marble floor is beautiful, but so bloody impractical when in a rush, so slippery, impossible to run around on!
Where is my Coca-cola campaign pitch? I am sure I kept it on my desk. Hmm…should check out all the drawers. These fat dark timber drawers are so cumbersome! I almost felt as if my arm would get ripped from the rest of my body while opening one of them. My conclusion: Expensive stuff is certainly not the most convenient to use! Voila! Found the campaign. Strangely I am feeling really, really happy. Why? I know being happy is a privilege; but the happiness I am feeling right now doesn’t seem right.

Standing in the middle of the room is certainly not helping me recollect the missing link. Okay, I am looking around. I wish mom had finished that sculpture before fate engulfed her and moulded her into a star and oh I love that painting, you know “Starry Night by the river Rhone” by Vincent Van Gogh? Brenda gave me a reproduction of that painting on my last birthday. Of course she can’t get me the original, lying in the Louvre in Paris. I am sure, the original costs a fortune and so there is no chance she’d be able to buy it. But well I love it in all forms – original or reproduction! It is so magical. Sometimes I wish I could just be part of it, leave all my problems behind and join this utterly beautiful, magical artwork somehow. Oh! Look how the stars are shimmering and…
And then the events of the last evening start flashing back in her mind – all at once, like a thunderstorm. Her head starts hurting; she has a terrible migraine five minutes later.
Gasping for breath she tried reaching for her cellular phone but suddenly her feet couldn’t take her weight and her mind refused to sync with the rest of her body. She gave up the struggle and settled on the floor instead, legs crossed, face buried in her hands; clasping the temples with the tips her fingers. The nerve on the centre of her forehead was suddenly prominent and throbbing uncontrollably. Her face was slowly turning a sickly pink and beads of sweat were forming on her temples.
“Sherlyn, Sherlyn…how could you do this to yourself, today of all days!” she muttered sitting alone still clasping her forehead.
The weird combination of depression pills and migraine pills were showing their side effects now.
This Coca-Cola pitch can be the turning point in my life! This is the biggest opportunity that I have ever had to prove my talent. I was so happy when the head of my department chose me to lead this project. But just hours before the proposal presentation I feel completely disorientated, vulnerable for some reason and very helpless. I think I need a doctor.

Sherlyn waits for Dr.Elnazak to arrive at his clinic in Camberwell while trying to hold back a strong feeling of nausea. After exactly twenty-three minutes Dr.Elnazak arrives and asks her to sit in the impeccably organized white patient chambers. After two hours of counseling and calming her down he suggests her to visit a specialist – his psychiatrist friend Dr Dalton down Docklands in Melbourne CBD.

This road is choc a r bloc with cars and trams full of people ready to start their day at work. How can they be so excited? How can work be so important? Life, what is life for them? I don’t want to do this Coca-cola campaign shit and fuck everything. I don’t want anything. Life is so useless. This Dr Elnazak, what does he think he is? His so-called counseling doesn’t seem to affect me one bit. And what does he think he was counseling me for? Why do I need a psychiatrist? Uhhhh…I feel so frustrated, I just want to bang that car in front, stupid driver, doesn’t know how to drive or what? I don’t…

She starts drifting away into a fit of anger and faints and crashes into a speeding hauling truck. She is rushed to the hospital whilst the police find her medical file in the car wreckage. They contact Dr Elnazak who in turn directs them to Dr Dalton. He reads the symptom sheet attached to Sherlyn’s medical file and jitters at the conclusion. Sherlyn is suffering from a form of manic depression. While he sits in his office going through the file again and again, the phone rings. It’s the police. Sherlyn is dead.

AVY COMMENTS
I like the effort you have taken but you are getting confused with the points of view and the character being schizo is kind of passé and clichéd. How do you push this to another level altogether? The story dips and rises and dips which means it needs to be cut down to two-thirds its size with only the essentials. You need to build the plot up strongly too and not give way to using some of those teenage angsty language and expressions you seem enamoured of.