Chapters 1 and 2 of “Impasse”
One
Abby Kent was a blast.
Funny, outgoing, smart – the kind of person everyone wanted for a friend. Up for adventure, ready to lend a hand, easy to talk to, she excelled in the majority of her endeavors.
A casual writer herself, she worked as a freelance proofreader, enjoying the prospect of losing herself in her clients’ imaginations while reaping the benefits of being self-employed. She was a perpetual night owl; hard to awaken in the mornings, but once energized was alert until the late evening hours. Abby lived to read, loved to escape into different worlds, eras, cultures—appreciating the opportunity to live vicariously through other people’s words.
Perhaps it was her less-than-ideal childhood that paved the way for her zest for reading. An only child, oftentimes lonely, parents working most of the time, she learned to cope by reading. In those fantastic places of classical literature she was accepted, loved, nurtured, and free. She voraciously read books by the dozen, visiting the library as often as possible, losing herself, finding herself.
Nobody was surprised that Abby graduated college with honors, majoring in English and journalism, paying her way with scholarships and part-time tutoring jobs, as well as writing the occasional term paper for desperate college students. Her parents’ attention toward her dwindled as she got older and more self-sufficient, ostensibly oblivious to the fact that she longed desperately to have parents who loved and noticed her.
Also not surprisingly, she moved away shortly after college, from Laramie, Wyoming to Colorado Springs, primarily to embark upon her writing career and to escape from her familial indifference. She worked for the Gazette as a sometime-feature writer and copyeditor for a few years.
She also adopted Jinx while in Colorado. Jinx was a three-year-old black male cat with four white paws and a white spot above his right eye. He was a stray, found by a couple of kids walking home one day. Since their mother was allergic, they begrudgingly took him to the humane society. He was only there two days before Abby found him. He was definitely a sweetheart—her leading man, Abby would say. He was rarely more than five feet away from her at any given time and had his own pillow atop her bed. She did have to teach him to not shred the tulle canopy. It only took about two weeks—and three canopies—before he got the hint and has been a perfect gentleman since.
So, at the age of 28—and already stressing about turning 30—Abby decided to leave the snow for a different climate.
There was no rhyme or reason why Abby chose California. She had only been there once when she was seven and her parents took her to Disneyland for her birthday. It was, sadly, one of only a few happy childhood memories.
She found a cute and rather affordable little one-bedroom house to rent in a quiet Mission Beach neighborhood with a large bay window displaying a beautiful view of the ocean. A great place for my desk! Very inspirational, she mused. Jinx immediately made himself at home on the windowsill, purring contentedly as the sun shone down upon him.
Abby rubbed his belly, “This was a good idea, wasn’t it?” she asked him. Jinx meowed in agreement.
She found a job with the Union-Tribune as a copywriter but after only three weeks of California commuting traffic, she opted to pursue the freelance proofreader route. She signed up for a few online freelancing sites and was immediately flooded with work: good pay, great hours, and the ever present opportunity to write if she so desired.
Two
Abby met Chad and Liz Essex shortly after she arrived in San Diego. Liz was attending a Saturday monthly book club at the local library when Abby strode in, hip-hugging jeans revealing a hint of the tattoo on her lower back, hippie-style gauze shirt, clogs. Abby was very pretty, five-feet-seven-inches tall, an athletic build, her shoulder-length auburn hair in loose waves (and to her mother’s dismay usually messy), piercing green eyes hidden under black sunglasses. Liz smiled. Abby grinned back; instinctively aware that the two of them would become great friends.
After discussing the latest novel touted by Oprah, the group adjourned. Liz approached Abby, arm extended, hand open in a gesture of friendship. “Liz Essex, nice to meet you. You’re new, aren’t you?” Liz was a bit shorter than Abby, very attractive with dark hair cut into an attractive shag with face-framing bangs, brown eyes, and a bit older. Liz was also clad in dark-wash jeans and a beautiful leopard print blouse—with matching shoes.
“Yes,” Abby replied, shaking hands. “I moved here last month from Colorado.”
“Welcome, it’s always a pleasure to meet a fellow bibliophile who actually reads the book before the meeting,” Liz laughed aloud.
I already like her, mused Abby, grinning. “Want to go get a cup of coffee or something Liz?”
“That sounds fantastic! Why don’t you follow me over to my place? My husband Chad is out running errands, but should be home pretty soon. You can meet him too.”
“Fine with me,” Abby replied, following Liz out of the library.