My Iceberg Creative Essay

8/9/2019 My Iceberg Creative Essay

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Student Name

Mr. Ankeny

English II Accelerated

10 June 2010

Dim

Doris Dean drowned out the noise of her sorrows with a comforter stuffed to her face.

She didnt notice when Nick walked in. He skirted the chest at the end of the bed, circled to

where she lay crying, and grabbed her by the shoulder. He pulled her vertical. A picture frame

fell and cracked behind him. The blanket slid to the floor, covering his feet.

Get your shit together, he said.

DeeDee cried harder. The mascara tears streamed down her cheeks, black rivulets on

her porcelain skin. Nicks frame heaved, he loosened his grip on her, and he looked directly at

her blood-shot eyes.

Im leaving now, forever.

No youre not, she said under her breath.

I am.i

He stepped back, glanced at the broken picture frame on the nightstand, and turned away

from her. She flopped back on the bed, wrapping the thin sheets over her face. It had been 3

years since she purchased the sheets; they were wearing thin in the middle spread of the bed. She

pulled the comforter over her body. She cried for the next 30 minutes. Then, exhausted, she fell

asleep.

Nick left the apartment and walked into the night outside. There were no cars passing by.

He trotted, like a coyote, across the street. He glanced back at the building, and then continued

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to where Jean was parked. As he approached the black sedan, lights out, the car started and he

opened the passenger-side door. He sat silent as Jean pulled out of the space and drove down the

street. She left the lights off.

You can turn the lights on, he said.

She might be at the window.

Shes not at the window. Shes crying on the bed.

How can you be sure? Im just being safe.

By driving with the lights off. Thats safe?

She clicked the lights on after passing the building. Nick felt the perspiration on his back.

The cotton t-shirt became damp against the seat. Jean extended her hand to his knee. It was a

gesture of kindness, and Nick was not immune to this small act. The mood lightened. He tapped

her hand, alternating index and middle finger, friendly and playful. The air conditioning blew

the Freon air and cooled Nicks arms and face. The small beads of sweat on his forehead

felt as if they were crystallizing in the fabricated breeze. But when the chill peaked, the

perspiration receded back into the skin, and his forehead, instead of becoming icy, became

dry and arid and cool to the touch. ii

So, are you going to tell me about it? I mean, howd it go?

You can imagine how it went. It went terrible.

Was she crying?

Of course she was crying. Youd be crying; Id be crying. It went horrible. I dont want

to talk about it.

What was she wearing?

A yellow tank-top.

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Her hair?

Wrapped in a tight bun, pulled straight back. She loosened the bun and her hair fell to

the sides of her face. It looked tangled, but felt smooth, like itd recently dried.

Shed probably showered.

She didnt, her make-up was on. I think her scalp had been perspirating.

Her nails, were they polished?

Shed scratched it off. You could see the paint residue at the cuticle. And she wasnt

wearing earrings, shed taken them off and set them on the nightstand. Shed even taken off her

ring, it was on the dresser. Her forearms were red, like shed been scratching them, the same

with her ankles. Her eyes, bloodshot from crying. Mascara ran down her cheeks. She held a

blanket to her face rubbed red with lipstick.

You break anything?

A picture frame of the two of us.

How symbolic.

Do you think that was clich?

Maybe. I think it could hold enough value as a symbol that it evades clich. But

traditionally, it would be considered clich.

I tried to avoid clich. I even swore. I never swear. But I did want to break that picture,

just so she knew it was over. Like if she woke up after falling asleep, and wondered if it was only

a dream, that she would have that broken picture frame to remind her this was real.

Nick adjusted the vent on the dash. They were on the outskirts of the city now, curving

onto the onramp of the interstate, the streetlights slowly fading until the only light shone from

the headlights of the black sedan. Jean accelerated down the open, dark road. There was only

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darkness on their right. To the left the city lights seemed to slowly dim themselves to off.

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i The short, choppy prose is reminiscent of Hemingways dialogue.

"What possessed you to bring her?"

"I don't know, I just brought her."

"You're getting damned romantic.""No, bored." (30-31)

ii

The details of the scene correlate to the emotions of the main character, Nick. As Nicks emotionsdry from the break-up, his forehead also becomes arid and cool to the touch. Hemingway also

displays this when he relates Jakes feelings to his surroundings.

I saw her face in the lights from the open shops, then it was dark, then I saw her face clearly as wecame out on the Avenue des Gobelins. The street was torn up and men were working on the car-tracks

by the light of acetylene flares. (33)

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