I think we can all agree there is a lot of truth to it. Those are the moments in our life that we can remember in great detail even years later - when you step out of your comfort zone and keep walking until you get to where you want to be. It's exhilarating.
I propose that it's also very true in story telling. No one wants to hear about the day you got a coffee and went to work and went home and ate dinner and went to bed. There's no story there. We need that magic spark of a character who is thrust, in some way, out of their comfort zone or who intentionally chooses to leave it. Without it, the story falls flat.
So that is the prompt for this week: Show us a character either choosing to leave their comfort zone and to try something new.
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My response:
"It's easy to get a guy to ask you to dance," Carol said with a smile, her eyes twinkling as she stepped forward, towards the dance floor. "All you have to do is separate yourself from the group and toss your hair." Her voice faded to a whisper in our direction as she stepped bravely forward.
I exchanged glances with Marci and rolled my eyes. If it were that easy, we'd all be dancing!
Then he came, materializing out of the crowd. Carol had only just looked forward and he was standing right in front of her. He said something, and she nodded. He took her hand to lead out onto the floor, and she turned back to us, eyes wide and lips moving. Oh my gosh, it worked!
Our chins fell in unison as we stared after her. Did it really work, or was it just a fluke? Carol was a very pretty girl, so what worked for her might not work for all of us. Or had he overheard our conversation and thought it was funny?
Either way, it had to be tested again. Kendra and Ginny begged off, but Marci rolled her eyes at the rest of us. "It was a fluke," she declared, and followed Carol's footsteps. She didn't go far. Still easily within earshot, and tossing us a smile over her shoulder, she flipped her hair."
We all saw him coming this time. He'd been standing on the other side of the hall, by the punch. Marci had time to turn back and grin at us before he reached her. Then, just like Carol, Marci disappeared into the crowd.
Kendra and Ginny giggled, poking at each other and daring anyone else to try. I, on the other hand, didn't see any reason to stand on the wall with the girls if there was a chance, no matter how slight, of dancing. Wasn't that the whole purpose in coming to the dance? And when Carol and Marci came back, I didn't want to have to listen to their stories and wonder about what might have been if I had been brave like them. Kendra and Ginny could hold the wall up by themselves.
My heels clicked on the polished wood floor, and it seemed to me they echoed in the hall. One step away from the other girls seemed like a marathon, but I did it. One step, and then two. Three, and then an ocean separated us. I turned back to Kendra and Ginny, wondering if they could see through my false smile to my shivering nerves. I locked my knees against the urge to turn and run back. Then I sucked in a deep breath and lifted my arm to toss my hair back.
"Lizzy, right?" Like Carol's partner, I never saw him coming. One minute he wasn't there, and the next he was at my elbow.
"Yeah." My held breath released in one gasp, and I hoped he didn't notice or think I was stupid.
"We played ultimate Frisbee together this morning, right? You're pretty good."
Kendra and Ginny were almost rolling on the floor now, and it took all my will to ignore them.
"Thanks." I couldn't remember him, but then, there had been a pretty big group.
"You like to dance?" He offered his hand to me, palm up.
I shivered, then reached up and took it. His hands were soft, like mine, not calloused, like they always are in books. Then I looked into his eyes. They were a muddy green, and he had a pimple on his left cheek, near his nose. Still, it felt good when he pulled me into the crowd and wrapped his arms around me. And when the music ended and I went back to my friends, I would have my own story to tell.
He glanced over at Eveline. She was watching him like a hawk; had been all night. Of course, who could blame her? After all, he hadn’t been home in years. She probably thought he was going to steal something. She had good reason, I suppose. The last time he had set foot in this building he had stolen the principal’s car – nothing special, just an old Ford Taurus – broken her heart, got drunk, and ended up in juvie 3 towns away. He hadn’t been back – said he hadn’t even looked back. That is, until the funeral. I guess it is pretty hard to get home when you are always too drunk to walk straight.
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He looked down and noticed his hands shaking. He hadn’t had a drink since he found out that he was all John had left. That was 4 days ago. He started to lean back to stretch, trying to hide his shaking hands, but immediately jerked back forward when he touched the legs of the lady was behind him. He wondered again how people sit in gymnasium bleachers for hours. His back and head were killing him, so he got up to head to the bathroom, hoping that the circulation would return to his legs before he fell all the way down to the wooden floor.
When he reached the gym doors he looked back to make sure John was still on the sidelines. He had played for most of the first half, and now, with only about 3 minutes left until halftime, he probably wouldn’t be going back in. Good time to head to the bathroom. Beat the rush and all.
When he left the bathroom, Eveline was leaning against a door across the hall with her arms crossed, waiting for him. Surprised, he jumped a little. She gave a slight smile at catching him off his guard, but her eyes showed pity. She looked good. Almost better than he remembered. Time had been much kinder to her than to him, though that was to be expected. She hadn’t spent the last 10 years in a can of Coors. Not sure what to do, he gave her a head nod and started back toward the gym, stumbling a bit as he wiped his brow again. He only made it 2 steps when he heard her sigh and say, genuine anger in her voice, “Don’t you dare give me a head nod and just walk away, Toby Markus!”
He stopped, and turned. She was standing a pace from the door now, with the fire of genuine hate in her eyes.
Not knowing what else to do, he mumbled an apology as the halftime buzzer sounded, and turned to head back to the gym. She caught him by the arm before he had gone 10 feet and whirled him around.
“Why are you here?” she demanded. “John needs someone to look after him, not someone to look after!”
“I know,” he replied, his voice shaking and his eyes filling with tears. He met her gaze with uncertainty, and a bit of pleading. “I am going to be here for him. He deserves better…but I will give him the best I can.”
“You better. Or you better just leave now.”
“I am not running this time. I am going to make it better. I will make it up to him however I can.” And, as he turned away and began back up the hall toward the gym, he repeated it again to himself, “I am going to make it better. I am. I will.”
Somehow, as he said it, his demons seemed just a little smaller, the people around him a little less judgmental. He thought he even saw a couple kind smiles on faces he thought he knew.