Lucy sat with Diedre at the diner. She listened to her best friend talk about her life- her family troubles, her man troubles, her physical troubles. She would offer a nod, a frown, or even an "are you serious?" once in a while, but in all actuality, her mind was elsewhere.
As she sipped her chocolate shake, she though about her life, as she often did. She thought about how she always said she was satisfied with her life. Really, that was a big, fat lie. Her life was utterly boring. She rarely went out except for work and shopping. She didn't get to travel as often as she liked because she was too wrapped up in work. Diedre was about the only friend she had, (she didn't even begin to consider Carter as a friend.) aside from Jimbo. She owned a television but barely watched it. She refused to use a computer except for work purposes and spent most of her time tapping out stories and poetry on an old, vintage typewriter. She was pretty hard on herself, but she was only trying to be realistic. Her life wasn't that of the typical young woman. No, not at all. She secretly wanted a more fun life, although she'd never admit it. But...she was happy that she at least had Jimbo and her typewriter. And, of course, her imagination.
That was her closest friend, really. It was with her all the time and she used it frequently. Her job was something she wanted to change, though. She longed to work for a literary magazine, even if she had to become a lowly writer instead of the mighty editor-in-chief. She hated that she didn't have enough courage to submit something. Diedre liked what little she had read, but that didn't give her enough motivation to do it. She had self-respect, but no self-confidence.
"Daydreaming about Carter again, Luce?" Diedre laughed. She knew that Lucy hated it when she teased her about Carter, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't help but to think that underneath their fights and insults, was potential for love. Of course, she refused to believe it. As did he. She not-so-secretly hoped that one day, they would hook up. Little did they realize, they were more compatible than they seemed.
"Ugh. You wish! I'm sorry, I'm just thinking about a lot of things. One of them not being Carter. I'm just getting sort of fed up with my life, you know? It's always the same. It's boring. I want to change." Diedre looked at her red-haired best friend. She was living proof that red heads had the most fiery tempers. She was glad, though that her boss/best friend was finally prepared to start enjoying life.
"You do realize that I've been telling you this for years. Oh well. Regardless, I can help you. I'd be glad to." Lucy looked at her with an appreciative smile. Diedre was always there when Lucy needed her. She wished that she could be the same kind of friend. Her distractions and selfishness wouldn't permit that. That was going to change; she was determined. She was going to change herself- all for the better. She was going to have fun, be nice, be helpful and supportive, and live an all-around great life.
Later that night, Lucy was sitting in front of the television- yes, the television - in her pajamas. A T.V. dinner in a tray sat on her lap and a tall glass of Coke in her cupholder. She was watching Jeopardy. She loved listening to the clues and picking an answer. When she got one right, she would give herself a round of applause. She didn't know that she could learn and watch television at the same time. She was quite enjoying this newly learned activity. She finished her food and dumbed the remnants in the trash during a commercial. She called Jimbo into the kitchen and gave him some leftovers, which wee readily appreciated. She went into the living room and turned off the television. She wanted to treat herself to a little writing time, since she hadn't all day.
She sipped some decaf and let the tapping of the machine fill the silent void that had taken over her living space. She loved that sound. It was a steady noise that filled her ears and made her believe in he own words again. It made her believe in her own words again. It made her feel free and at home, like she was writing simply for her own happiness. She was creating worlds all her own, in which she was in control of absolutely everything. That gave her a nice sense of fulfillment and power, like she was doing what she was supposed to be doing.