fwriction

As a birthday present to myself, today’s story of the day is the very first story of the day: Raymond Carver’s “Beginners” (a de-Gordon-Lish-ed version of “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love,” my all-time favorite short story).

Every time I read this story, I think, just maybe, I get a tiny bit better as a writer. Here’s to hoping. Please enjoy this story over the weekend, and stay warm.

Outside, in the back yard, one of the dogs began to bark. The leaves of the aspen tree that leaned past the window flickered in the breeze. The afternoon sunlight was like a presence in the room. There was suddenly a feeling of ease and generosity around the table, of friendship and comfort. We could have been anywhere. We raised our glasses again and grinned at each other like children who had agreed on something for once.

“I’ll tell you what real love is,” Herb said finally, breaking the spell. “I mean I’ll give you a good example of it, and then you can draw your own conclusions.” He poured a little more gin into his glass. He added an ice cube and a piece of lime. We waited and sipped our drinks. Laura and I touched knees again. I put a hand on her warm thigh and left it there.

“What do any of us really know about love?” Herb said. “I kind of mean what I’m saying, too, if you’ll pardon me for saying it. But it seems to me we’re just rank beginners at love…”