Cache Lesson 3

Cache
Lesson 3

A Date with Daphne

Gabriel Stanger swiped his large hands down his already dirt-soiled jeans, which did little to make them clean. Who can it be at this time of day? Bending his considerable height, he poked his head out the door of his greenhouse, which he'd conveniently attached to the side of his 1950's rambler-style home. The culprit responsible for intruding on his precious gardening time stood on the front steps, about to pound on the door a second time. "Crap!" A scowl replaced the serene look he'd worn a moment ago. It's that no-good Mason kid. What the heck does he want? "Over here Igor," he said, waving his arm.

"It's Ivan, sir."

"So it is. I must have forgotten. Russian name, isn't it?"

"I guess-- I mean, yes, my mom's part Russian. Er ... I came by to see if Daphne could go to the movies tonight."

Gabe arched his grey eyebrow, eyeing the lanky, dark-haired youth as they made their way inside the shed. "Got a job, do ya? Pretty expensive going to the movies now-a-days."

Ivan glanced skyward as a red-tail hawk cast a shadow overhead. Returning his gaze to Mr. Stanger, he hesitated, trying to think of a response. "No, sir, but I've saved some of my birthday money just for this occasion." He thought that sounded lame and shuffled his feet on the dirt floor of the greenhouse.

"More likely you're going on yer dad's dime, huh, boy?"

"No, sir. It's like I said." A blush was beginning to creep up his neck and face.

"Know much about gardening, son?"

"I ..."

"Ever hear of the Daphne Mezererum?" Donning a pair of stained cloth gloves, Mr. Stanger hefted a pair of pruning sheers, pointing them at Ivan. The older man reached out and snipped off a sweet-scented, rose-purple flower from a large potted shrub. He thrust it just inches from the young man's face. "Deadly! Yes sir, all parts, too. Yeppers, ya wouldn't want to touch any of it."

Ivan took a step back, his hand resting on the flimsy shed door.

"It's got another name, besides: Lady Laurel. Named my beautiful daughter after it: Daphne Laurel, sure did. Bit of Greek mythology wrapped 'round this here beauty." Gabe stroked the stem of one of the flowers, his eyes taking on a far away look as a small smile tugged at the corner of his thin-lipped mouth. "Guess there was this here fella, probably 'bout your age, looking to call on a 'nother girl by the name a Daphne. Apollo, and he was supposed to be some bright guy, but seems to me he weren't too bright, 'cause his Daphne was bound to a Goddess by the name a Artemis. She was all heavy into chastity. Know what that is, son?"

Ivan coughed, bringing his hand up to cover his gaping mouth. He left it there, nibbling at a hangnail, his face now blotched in bright-red patches.

"What's a matter, Igor, cat got yer tongue?"

"I just remembered I was supposed to mow the lawn today." He tried to take a step out but froze as Daphne's dad motioned him to come and inspect his beautiful specimen, continuing on as if he hadn't heard his dumb excuse.

"Artemis didn't want this Apollo messin' with her girl, so she turned Daphne into a Laurel Tree. Botanically it's not the same as this here plant, but kinda romantic, don't ya think, Apollo-- I mean, Igor?"

Ivan choked, trying to draw in a breath, his eyes becoming titanic like two blue super-balls as he turned and high-tailed it out the door. It slammed against the faded cedar siding on the shed, then swung back in, closing with a tidy click.

Reopening the door and poking his head out, Gabe called after the fleeing young man, "What time will ya be callin' for Daphne?" The wind whistling through the lilac bushes was the only reply.




6.Create a scene of dialog where a father is answering the door to his daughter's date, whom he can't stand and has no intention of allowing to date his daughter. The young man gets the message that he will not be allowed to go out with the daughter -- but get there in an unexpected way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lilly Stevens stood holding open the worn side-door which led into her small but tidy kitchen, its cracked and peeling paint a reflection of herself: a once pretty girl so full of life, replaced by a haggard-looking woman, whose days seemed to drone on and on. Her teenage son brushed by her, dragging a tattered backpack across the faded black and white Linoleum floor. Slumping into a chair with a sheepish grin, he put both palms flat up in a questioning pose.

"I thought you'd promised to stop this nonsense, Kevin?"

"Wadda ya mean?"

Lilly held a plastic bag up by one corner. She dangled it in front of his nose as sunlight reflected off its surface. Kevin shuffled his feet under the table, refusing to meet her gaze. "Well?"

"It's not mine! I'm just holding it for someone else." Even before he finished, he knew that wasn't going to fly with his mom. She'll wanna know who, and she'll be calling his parents. Crap, she's like one of those detectives on Bones: always digging, digging into my business.

"Okay, okay! It's mine, ma, but it's the last time! I swear! I just needed a few more bucks to get that car I told ya about." The next door neighbor's German Shepard barked, and they both watched through the small kitchen window as Sam, a husky, middle-aged man pulled into his driveway. A light but still-warm fall breeze rustled the lacy yellow curtains as Lilly considered her son's last remarks.

Drawing in a slow breath, Lilly chose her next words with care: "Kevin, one day you'll realize that the things in life that you'll really enjoy are the things that you've earned, with your own two hands. Your ill-gotten gains will never bring you a sense of accomplishment. Only hard work and saving your money for what you want and need will fulfill your soul. Now, every time you get into that car, it will be a reminder of the lie that it is. Is that what you want?"

Kevin opened his mouth, then clamped his jaw shut, clinking his teeth, his quick retort dying in his throat. He stared down at the plastic red and white-checked tablecloth, tracing its patterns. Someday I'll be able to buy her better things, then she won't be so down on how I got 'em. "You're right, ma, and I promise this is the last of it." He gave her one of his best smiles, but his mom still looked skeptical. Picking up his pack and slinging it over one shoulder, he rose and walked to his mom. "Truce?" He stepped in a gave her a light hug.

"I hope you mean that." Lilly stepped back and ran a stray lock of hair back into his tangled, blonde curls, giving him a doubtful smile.

"What's for dinner?" he called back over his shoulder, already bounding up the steps to his room.

"Leftover meatloaf. I hope you don't mind. I had a lot of errands to ... " She heard his bedroom door slam and sighed.

Kevin threw his backpack off to the side of the bed and made his way to his partially-opened closet door. Why the hell can't she stay outta my life? He lifted the back corner of the closet's carpet, drawing it back about a foot. Digging in his front right jean pocket, he produced a jack-knife. Using the tip of it, he pried up one of the loose floorboards, removing a two-foot section. "Ah! Thank God!" He fingered a one-gallon sized bag filled with a brownish-green substance. Money in the bank!


9. Write a scene in which one character is angry with another for breaking the rules in some way. Have your characters "fight" each other with words.