Page 37 of In Sheets of Rain

“I thought you said my book was good.”

I could hear shuffling down the line as if Sean was rearranging the office desk at the Warkworth station. As if the station was more important than me.

“You know I like it, hon,” he said, his voice cajoling. “But me liking it and a publisher liking it are two different things. You know I’d likeanythingyou write. It goes with the territory; we’re a team you and I. But…” He sighed. The line crackled. Somewhere a door banged closed in Warkworth. “Listen, can we talk about this when I get home?”

“When will that be?”

“Ah, not sure. Things are tricky. I’ll phone. All right?”

I stared at the frozen image of Crash Bandicoot on the TV and suppressed my own sigh.

“OK. Sure.”

“Phone Tayla. Get out of the house,” he said and then hung up.

I curled up on the couch and pulled a cushion toward me, hugging it close, trying to fill the gnawing pit of nothingness that seemed to be growing exponentially inside.

* * *

Ikilled my favourite character off in my manuscript.

And bawled my eyes out.

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