Building A2 - InkSpot.Com

About This Author

I am a 40 year old married mother of two teenage boys. I live for writing, especially romance. Love the happily ever after scenerio. The best thing about writing for me is the ability to lose yourself in your work, and feel as if you've accomplished something great. At the end of the day, that's all that really matters.

Building A2

Your Assignment

a.) In a 500 to 600 word paragraph, write an example that will connect the reader with Carla's disappointment/mild anger/ irritation that Pete forgot her birthday.

b.) In a 500 to 600 word paragraph, write an example that will connect the reader with Carla being furious that Pete forgot her birthday.

c.) In a third 500-600 word paragraph, write an example that connects the reader with a level of anger in Carla that is neither mild, nor extreme that Pete forgot her birthday.

Part 1
Carla thought at least when she got home from work Pete would mention her birthday, but coming through the door to find him camped out on the couch in his underwear with the remote control attached to his hand told her otherwise. She thought turning thirty would be a happy thing, but it was one irritation after another all day and by the looks of things it wasn’t going to be getting any better tonight.
“Hey,” she said.
“Did you bring dinner home with you?” Pete asked, his eyes never leaving the television screen.
Carla felt the blood rushing to her cheeks as she turned toward the kitchen, giving him her back. “No.”
Pete got home from work three hours before she did and the least he could’ve done was had dinner ready for her, today of all days. She dropped her purse on the chair, shook her head and walked to the fridge, her heart-growing heavy with disappointment. Carla grabbed eggs, butter, bread, jam, and frozen hash brown patties from the freezer. Breakfast would have to do because she damn well wasn’t going to put any extra effort into her own birthday dinner after her day from hell.
She moved around the kitchen in a daze as she cooked the food and made coffee, her thoughts completely focused on this day almost being over and being such a bitter disappointment. The only recognition that she received was a bouquet of purple carnations from her best friend.
Grabbing plates, utensils, and mugs, she noisy deposited them on the wooden table with a resounding thunk. She could see Pete from where she stood and he didn’t even flinch. Carla sighed and finished setting the table. She went back to the stove, grabbed the food and put it on the table, a little quieter than the dishes. She sat at the table, staring as Pete as he remained glued to the television, laughing, shaking his head, cruising through the channels the second whatever drivel he was watching began to bore him.
Instead of announcing dinner was ready, Carla filled her plate and started eating in silence. She wondered if he would even notice the food was ready, or the fact that she started eating without him. Halfway through her meal, Pete stood. She stared at him, noticed the puzzled look on his face, and couldn’t help the satisfaction it brought to her. Maybe now it would dawn on him, maybe, just maybe he would actually realize he totally screwed up and dropped the ball and would start making it up to her.
He came into the kitchen, pulled his chair out, sat and loaded up his plate. He smiled at her, “Smells good.” He didn’t even give her a second glance as he proceeded to inhale his dinner.
Anger began to bubble beneath the surface as Carla sat watching him without one care in the world. She snatched her mug, spilling the hot coffee directly onto the remaining eggs on her plate. “Damn it!”
Pete laughed, “Ah, it’s just a little watery, no big deal.”
She stood from her chair, “Yeah, no big deal.” Carla marched from the kitchen to the bathroom, slammed the door, stripped off her clothes and hit the shower. With any luck, the hot water would help take the edge off and relax her enough to go to sleep and forget today ever happened.
WC:567

Part 2

Carla sat in her car in the driveway, anger coursing through her veins. Her knuckles turned white as she maintained a death grip on the steering wheel. It was already after six, and not one word from Pete. If she walked through that door and found him sitting on his lazy butt in front of that enormous flat panel she knew she would blow. He didn’t bother to wish her happy birthday before she went to work, hadn’t called her all day, and she’d know within ten seconds if he had completely forgotten what today was. Taking a deep breath, she released the wheel, flung open the car door and prepared to find out just how right she was. Every step toward the house just made her burn a little more. She closed her eyes before jamming the key into the lock, hoping that by some miracle that man remembered.
The television blared as the door opened. There Pete sat, planted exactly where she suspected.
“Hey, Babe,” he said.
The usual term of endearment only served to piss her off even more. She moved through the house and to the bedroom, pacing, trying to get ahold of her emotions to no avail. His eyes followed her but he never moved from the doorway.
“Bad day at work?” he asked.
Carla stopped mid step, her hands bawled into tight fists. “If you’re asking about work, no that was fine. If you are referring to yourself and your total lack of acknowledgement of my birthday, then yes.”
His eyes widened and his head drooped. “I’m sorry, Babe, I forgot.”
Carla laughed. “Forgot? Like you forget to make dinner every Wednesday, or forget to take out the trash. You didn’t forget, you just don’t give a damn about me at all.”
“Now hold on, that’s not true. I’ll make it up to you.”
She marched over to him, standing within a mere two inches as the fury rose from her toes to her head. “How? A quick romp where you’re the only one who gets off? Is that what your idea of making it up to me entails?” she snarled.
Pete took a step backward, trying to create distance.
“You act like you never reach climax. I’m sorry I forgot your birthday. Let me take you out to dinner.”
Carla raised her arms and with both hands, planted them squarely on his chest, slamming against his bare chest with all her might. “Get out!” she screamed.
Pete’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”
Carla lunged forward at him again. He countered by grabbing her by the wrists and holding on while she squirmed and pulled, trying to get out of his grip, as the obscenities flew out of her mouth in rapid succession. The more he hung on, the wilder she became. She kicked him, slammed her body into him, cursed him, bit him and the entire time he held onto her until she dropped to the floor huffing and puffing, tears now running down her cheeks.
Pete knelt down and scooped her up in his arms, then deposited her onto the bed. “I’m ordering in, you’re in no condition to go anywhere tonight.” He turned and walked out of the bedroom.
Carla sat there, all the anger, disappointment and pure rage beginning to melt away as she sobbed.
WC:556

Part 3

Carla pulled into the driveway, hoping that dinner would be waiting so she could eat, take a long, hot bath, and just go to bed and pretend this day hadn’t happened. She absolutely hated her birthday, despised the reminder that she was no closer to attaining her life goals and now that her life was half over, it didn’t look like she would hit anything from her list of where she would be. She sighed, it was childish to hang onto those dreams she jotted down at eighteen, but she held onto it anyway.
Making her way into the house, she quickly realized that Pete had forgotten her birthday for the third year in a row, and if she wanted to eat dinner she would have to make it herself.
“Hey, how was your day?” Pete asked from the couch.
Carla folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “Shitty.”
Raising an eyebrow he set his can of beer on the table in front of him. “Ok, what’s wrong now?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m just a little pissed off,” she snarled.
Pete stood and made his way over to her. “If you hate the job so much just quit already.”
Carla laughed, couldn’t believe that he was truly that clueless. “My job is not the problem.’
Pete swallowed hard closing his eyes.
“That‘s right, it’s not the job that’s my issue, it’s you and your lack of consideration for me and my feelings.”
He shook his head. “Are you going to tell me what you think I’ve done now, or do you want me to guess?”
“Well let’s see,” she huffed, “this is the third year in a row that my birthday has escaped your memory. So I’m telling you right now, if you think for one second that I’m even going to acknowledge yours in two months, you can forget it.”
Carla moved down the hallway toward the bedroom and tossed herself face down into her pillow.
Pete moved onto the bed and scooped her into his arms. “I’m sorry, I know my memory is a huge problem and you are always the one who suffers for it. It’s not an excuse, and I will make it up to you.” He kissed the top of her forehead and rocked her.
“I know, but I thought this year would be different. You were writing things down, getting better.”
“I’ve tried to keep that habit going, but I just didn’t. Let me take you out to dinner, you pick the restaurant.”
Carla shrugged.
“Come on, I’ll even go to that little Chinese place you love so much and I promise I won’t complain even once about anything.”
“Only if we can go to diner afterward for hot fudge sundae’s,” Carla said.
“You’re on.”
She got up from the bed, willing to go and have dinner, but that little threat that she wouldn’t acknowledge his birthday he’d soon find out was idle. For once he would see what that kind of sting felt like.
WC:505

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