November 27, 2024
Diary entry
THIS MORNING ANNELIESE sat in my kitchen, trying very hard to win me over. But when she said that Willem liked her round tummy, I immediately pictured his lovely hands stroking her velvet skin. It felt like a blow to the solar plexus. For a moment, I wished I had a tasteless untraceable poison to slip into her coffee: a quick killer. There mustn’t be the suffering of a lingering sickbed. Only a sudden slipping away, like falling into a bottomless sleep. I know death isn’t like that because I’ve seen it up close.
When I stop and reread the lines above, I’m appalled at the turn my fantasy is taking. Maybe I should strike through the words, but they are only a jealous fantasy. So I let them stand.
Besides my murderous thoughts (momentary, I promise), I made her cry. Inexcusable!
It occurs to me Anneliese is the perfect model for Eveline, the sister of the protagonist in my novel in progress. Bright. Eager to please. Sly. (Anneliese trapped Willem into marrying her, didn’t she?) She’s beautiful in the way only the young can be. I couldn’t take my eyes off her thick dark hair (much more suited to Eveline’s character than blonde), her firm jawline, and smooth taut neck. I couldn’t help but imagine her solid thighs parting for Willem—an image I blinked away before it fully formed.
I’ve aged badly: witness my thinning hair, the cellulite on my thighs, my sagging breasts. But if this is the punishment for my sins, I’ve gotten off lightly.
Hmm …
The changes I want to make to Eveline will mean reworking the scenes in which she appears—and a few in which she doesn’t. I’ll have to tweak the plot. I might even kill her at the end. The changes will set me back weeks, and my deadline is looming, but the novel will be better for it. I have to hunker down and make it work.