# “Naïve, out of touch with reality…” From Psychology report. A true account. 800 words



## The Backward OX (Feb 14, 2012)

(Names and other identifying details have been changed)



There are some tense issues I think I’ve messed up. See what you think.



‘*BANG*. You’re dead.’

Thirty-odd years later, I don’t recall if they were the exact words used. They’re close enough.

Dreyfus pointed the .303 at me from the far end of the living room. It was around nine p.m. and it was a week night. He’d been alone in his study for the better part of an hour, where – I later realised – he’d been steadily drinking. For most of this time his wife Jolié fidgeted nervously back and forth between the dining room and kitchen. I was seated at the dining table, alternating between writing a letter home, glancing briefly at the television, and engaging with Jolié in what I assumed was desultory conversation.

I am a slow learner. There had been nothing desultory about Jolié’s words. She’d been trying to psych herself up, to tell me something.

As I discovered the next day.

But for now we had a drunken “weekend warrior” to contend with. Seconds earlier I’d risen from my chair, to stretch, as Dreyfus stumbled from the study. Jolié had been standing perhaps five feet to my left. We all carried a light sheen of perspiration on our faces, the result of a humid summer evening in a time before widespread use of home air conditioning. In my case, the sweat had suddenly seemed icy on my skin.

Dreyfus adopted a regulation firing stance as he spoke. Left foot forward and weight dropped on the right hip, to create balance. He closed his left eye, and squinted through the rear sight. The business end of the barrel was pointed at my face. Jolié murmured something like ‘Don’t say anything. Don’t move.’

I recall being terrified.

I won’t pander to clichés by saying the tableau remained set in place for what seemed an age. It didn’t seem an age at all. I was quite aware it lasted only six or eight seconds. Dreyfus suddenly tilted the barrel up, and without having spoken another word swung around, back towards the study. He lowered the rifle and walked off.

I looked at Jolié. Her brown eyes, large and expressive at the best of times, had seemed all pupil. She exhaled a previous intake of breath and then, as her respiration steadied, our gazes locked. For a brief moment the tip of her tongue had moved slowly back and forth across the inside of her top lip.

‘We’ll talk tomorrow, while he’s at work,’ was all she said before vanishing into the master bedroom.

The next morning Dreyfus bustled about with the air of a busy man of commerce, intent only on giving me my instructions for the day and in getting off to work in the city. Together with his salaried position he was also the agent for a line of imported car tools; when I’d turned up looking for somewhere to sleep he’d decided to make me earn my room by cold-calling on garages throughout the metropolitan area. To him, the day after the night before was probably just another day.

The day was developing as a stinker. Humidity was in the high nineties and would probably give way to a temperature hovering around 100ºF. Consequently I’d decided to get out of the house early, so I could knock off early.

Dreyfus was in the bathroom as I was leaving, and Jolié enquired if I’d be back for lunch.

‘Probably, yes.’

‘I might be in the pool.’

My morning passed in a series of discussions regarding the specifications of the tools in my range. A few orders were obtained. At around eleven forty-five I headed back to the house.

Jolié greeted me at the door to the rear deck. It seemed she’d finished in the pool but hadn’t bothered to change, and was barely decent in a flimsy floral bikini of _minute_ dimensions. I acted nonchalant, as if young, tanned and gorgeous females running around nearly naked were a commonplace in my life.

‘Isn’t it hot?’ she said. 

In a rare moment of humour, I adopted a deadpan expression as I said, ‘You’re probably wearing too much clothing.’

Surprisingly, Jolié responded in kind. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘Do you think I should remove my top?’

I made some gauche and awkward remark, the precise wording of which has vanished in the dim recesses of what passes for my mind, but I do remember what she more or less said a moment later.

‘This hook seems to be stuck. Can you undo it for me?’

I was all thumbs as I complied. Jolié shrugged out of the top and caught it on one finger as she turned towards me. She lifted her chin, threw back her shoulders and, twirling the top above her head, trilled ‘Ta-da!’

I didn’t know which way to look.

Today of course, when I’m too old to bother any more, I would know exactly what to do.

Life just isn’t fair.


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## bazz cargo (Feb 14, 2012)

Hi Xo,
I did look, but my skill wasn't up to spotting anything wrong. 

Nice picture you write. I could do with a smidgen of back-story. Who 'you' are and why are 'you' staying there. Family connection? I gather by the pool reference they are rich enough not to need a lodger. 

And did the MC have any thoughts on dealing with a drunken, armed and possibly cuckolded house companion?


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## Katie D (Feb 14, 2012)

I liked that it had me guessing until the end why the woman's husband is  a couple of cards short of a full deck. I'm assuming that's why you  left her physical description until the end, which bothered me, until  the end. 
I couldn't not respond but as bazz said, my skill isn't up to spotting anything wrong.
So  all I can offer is a suggestion or two. I don't think Fahrenheit is  necessary. Living in a celcius country, one automatically assumes that  anything above about 50 degrees is Farenheit and even though I don't  know the conversion, it still sounds bloody hot. 

It might just  be my literary ignorance (an opinion, all be it basic, I hope I may  share without being scoffed as it may answer a question I've had for a  while.) To the point, I didn't know if the character was male or female  until the very end and this was a distraction. It happens to me alot  with first person POV's. While I'm reading, my mind is simultaneously  picturing the story from a male and female POV which tends to minimise  the intent of the story. It doesn't have to be as obvious a hint as 'I  woke up and scratched my balls', just something subtle will do to set me  right. I do wonder if others have this trouble.


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## The Backward OX (Feb 14, 2012)

*Bazz*, thanks for stopping by. You want an autobiography? Wait until the book comes out.

*Katie*, good point about gender. It never occurred to me that a man would point a rifle at a woman but who knows? I’ll keep it in mind for all future writing. Thanks. And you’re right about the Fahrenheit stuff too. You don’t want a job as my secretary, I suppose? Just kidding. Btw, "all be it" is one word – albeit.


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## Katie D (Feb 15, 2012)

The Backward OX said:


> It never occurred to me that a man would point a rifle at a woman but who knows?



No decent man would, so that must make you a decent man. Who really knows what anyone is capable of?


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## Circle (Feb 15, 2012)

‘*BANG*. You’re dead.’

Thirty-odd years later, I don’t recall if they were the exact words used. They’re close enough.

Dreyfus pointed the .303 at me from the far end of the living room. It was around nine p.m. and it was a week night. He’d been alone in his study for the better part of an hour, where – I later realised – he’d been steadily drinking.* For most of this time his wife Jolié fidgeted nervously back and forth between the dining room and kitchen.* I was seated at the dining table, alternating between writing a letter home, glancing briefly at the television, and engaging with Jolié in what I assumed was desultory conversation.

Since you mentioned tense, I've focussed on it.  If the bold action refers to the preceeding one, the tense should agree ("had been fidgeting").  Otherwise, I would drop "for most of this time" and just say "his wife Jolie, fidgeted...."

 If I am wrong let me know why, since tense can be a bit annoying sometimes!


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## The Backward OX (Feb 15, 2012)

Circle, you're right. Originally I'd written this in past perfect, it was littered with "hads" and I decided to get rid of them. Seems I still have some learning to do.


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## Rustgold (Feb 15, 2012)

> Jolié *murmured* something like ‘Don’t say anything. Don’t move.’


With its unusualness, murmured sounds too conspicuous for me.  Maybe something more common, perhaps mumbled, mouthed, maybe lipped (probably not).


I thought there was enough in the story to identify the main character as male early on, and that it was a possible affair issue.
I didn't like the pool scene though, and felt cheated by it.  Maybe it's because it doesn't sound to me as a likely post-event action; and maybe a touch weak.

But that could be just me.


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## The Backward OX (Feb 15, 2012)

Rusty, I agree with your assessment of the pool scene. I knew it was weak as I wrote it. Re "murmured", maybe "breathed" might do the trick.


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## Circle (Feb 17, 2012)

The Backward OX said:


> Circle, you're right. Originally I'd written this in past perfect, it was littered with "hads" and I decided to get rid of them. Seems I still have some learning to do.



Well, it seems I am better at sorting out other's tense issues than my own.

We all carried a light sheen of perspiration on our faces, the result of a humid summer evening in a time before widespread use of home air conditioning.

I think you are at that point too distanced from the action as a narrator in the way you describe it...Perhaps you could set the seen earlier on and then get closer to the action to build up the tension by focussing in on the build up of events if you see what I mean.  Sorry, it's been a while since I was on the Crit forum.  I am trying to get back into it!


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