Elephant by Natalie Rodriguez
Publication date: May 29th, 2020
Synopsis (according to Goodreads):
Summer of 2006. Four childhood best friends. A family secret.
After a strange encounter leaves him hospitalized, a timid teenage boy named Matt "Matty" Smith comes home to a continuous series of events met with anxiety, depression, and PTSD.
Under the guardianship of his grandma, Lucia, Matt lives with unspoken questions about his grandfather and parents. The elephant in the room. As Matt develops over the summer, the secrets only grow more profound and complex. Will the answers ever come? While searching for answers, Matt and his three childhood best friends encounter the meanings of love, forgiveness, and fate.
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Excerpt
The New York Times
A tragedy in a family...
For the Smith family, it was a day that would infamously be remembered until the end of time. On the night of August 4th, 1992, sixty-two-year-old LUCIA SMITH had received the worse news of her life, involving the whereabouts of her husband of forty-three years, FRANK, and their only child, JIMMY. The incident that had changed their lives forever.
1.
IT WAS DIFFICULT TO SEE, as though an ice cube had enclosed his body. Frostbite worked its way down his fingertips, turning bluer by the second.
Something was visible. He was visible to the eye of the silhouette.
Around 5'8", a silhouette of a man--no taller than the teenage boy--stood in front of him.
"Wait!" The teenage boy called after; his breaths vapored out into puffs of clouds.
He pushed forward.
"Come back!"
But the teenage boy was distancing away, not the silhouette. The boy lunged forward and came to an abrupt halt. Somehow, somewhere in the white frosty air, his feet kept getting sucked into the ground, into the white floor. Winter wonderland.
An invisible force field was amongst the boy and the unknown man.
"Wait!" his voice now croaked. The boy stretched out his arms, but, starting at the tips of his fingers and working its way down his wrists, forearms, and arms--a blaring light shone.
He squinted as the light traveled through the white cloud storm, forcing him to look away.
***
The teenage boy's eyes shot wide open, awakening. He wormed his way up, giving the mattress a few squeaks. The door was closed, and the curtains were concealed with floor length curtains. There was zero amount of light coming into the bedroom. He kept his hand on the chain of the lamp atop the bedside table.
Matthew Jimmy Smith was his name.
Around 5'8", he was a teenager in the midst of puberty with a possibility of another growth spurt, not a boy.
Acne: great. Body type: lean-ish. Puberty check: no fucks.
Mood: moody. The childhood paintings on the walls also had a mind of their own, with squiggly letters of his name, Matt, and his nickname, Matty. A few of them were written in bold as well.
Matt had thick, wavy rock-n-roll-drummer-hair, but now his dark brunette neck length locks decided that they were best to puff out like an inhaled balloon. He had big hair like Dee Snider, one of the too many band posters displayed on his off-white colored walls. Kurt Cobain, Alice Cooper, and Angus Young accompanied the neighboring posters.
Matthew... Matt... Matty (the boy with countless identities) lowered his hand from the bedside lamp. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The dirty piles of clothes on the floor were still a bit visible. They brought a god-awful stench into the bedroom, like a fresh pile of cat shit dropped into an indoor little box with the windows shut. "Gross!"
Matt chucked the camouflage comforter and the matching black-and-blue bedsheets off his body. Immediately, he noticed how his entire body was covered in sweat. He wore his gym shorts. His T-shirt--displaying the IVY HIGH SCHOOL, HOME OF THE POISON logo--clung to his hairless chest like peanut butter smudged across a piece of paper. He sniffed around some more and immediately, his nose was drawn to the blob of sweat underneath his armpit. Nope, that was not the cause of the cat litter shit stench.
Then, he tugged at the centerpiece of his T-shirt and held it to his nose. Oh, it made sense now. That god-awful stench, the case of B.O, was him.
Jesus! He turned his head away and released his T-shirt; it clung back to his skin, and he wiped the last remains of saliva from the corner of his mouth.
Swinging one leg over the full-size bed, the other followed and fell off the mattress. Life could not have been easier, but then his daddy longlegs got caught in the midst of their own storm. "Dammit!" He moved his legs left and right, then right and left. After a few kicks, his legs broke free from the tangled bedsheets. But with his body already too close to the edge of the bed, he toppled over to the floor. He fell with a loud thud. Outside of his bedroom door, the wooden floor gave an eerie haunted house creak.
"What was that?!" said a girl with a husky voice, still in the process of womanhood.
"He's up!" It was a boy's voice, also in the process of puberty.
Matt perked up his head, just enough to see over his bed. Shadows huddled closer ot the door through its small crack of an opening. The dead giveaway was the twisting and turning of the golden doorknob, rejecting their entry.
"Matt?" It was the same girl, followed by a few knocks.
"Maybe we should let him..."
"Let me do it," the boy interjected to the other girl. "Like this."
The door jolted at every bam, bam, bam from the two drumroll-fists that pounded on the door. That definitely did not sound like a pretty picture.
"Derek?"
"What woman?"
"Don't you ever call me woman!"
Matt set his chin onto the edge of the bed. He let out a chuckle and thought to himself, Typical. Typical Jamie and Derek.
He reached for the closest piece of clothing on the floor and found dark gray gym-shorts. He was clueless if they were clean or not. Probably not.
"Children," he announced. "Children of the corn. Please don't fight! I'm a comin'!" He gave a thumb ups to the Jimi Hendrix poster. He broke out and got down tot he opening verse of "Here My Train A Comin'."
As he inched closer to the door, the footsteps trampled away, and the shadows vanished from the door's slight gap. "What the... Guys?"
Matt flung the door open to nothingness except for the little amount of light that streamed through the windows along the hallway. They revealed the last bits of another orange, yellow, purple and pink sky of a summer evening. Truly, it was the definition of beauty. But it was still muggy and hot as a motherfucker.
Matt dabbed at the beats of sweat from the four corners of his face. "This weather."
And then, the lights zapped out, revealing the hint of glow from the corner of his eyes...
An aisle of picture frames lit him a walkway that he motioned down; he discovered the book-lights attached atop the frames rendered the faces visible in the photographs.
Pacing right and left and left to right, it was a walk down memory lane. There were photographs of himself as a toddler with curly, light brown tints of golden locks. In other pictures, he was a young boy with brown, spiky hair that either had burgundy, blue, or green gel at the tips. His soft olive complexion had also gone through its own transition: olive in the earlier days and overly tanned around the middle school days (he frowned in all the baseball headshots and team AKA class-photos). Not to mention his teeth! They had a story of their own as well. He was a metal mouth and gave his best "toothpaste commercial smile" in the sixth and seventh-grade yearbook photos--with red braces that looked like a pool of blood. He caught a glimpse of his present day "tanner" but still so awkward, adolescent self. At least, that was what he had always believed himself awkward as fuck.
Matt was not exactly popular.
Ascending the staircase, the pictures formed a countdown. It all began at picture frame number one, July 1st. The candles on top of the birthday cake in each photograph indicated what year it was and how old he was; all thirteen of them. At two-years-old, he sat in the highchair. At seven, he was crouching like a hidden dragon by the untouched birthday cake.
Nine... Ten... Eleven... Twelve... Thirteen...
The trail of photographs came to an end as he arrived at the dining room archway, where it smelled like fresh-out-of-the-oven bakery rolls. "Happy birthday to you..."
And there they were, the four of them. His seventy-six-year-old grandmother, Lucia, Derek, and Lisa. The four of them stood behind the oversized chocolate chip cookie that sat atop the wooden oak dining room table for six. On the birthday "cake" resided two sparkling numerical numbers: one and four.
"...Happy... birthday... to... you..."
The chandelier was turned up a notch and added a simple, almost angelic touch as the four of them hit the high note. They were not the best of singers. By the end of the song, Derek's voice cracked a few times and it turned him into Kermit the Frog, only his voice was scratchier. Matt busted up, cry-laughing. He had to. It was typical. Typical Lisa as she sang her heart out. Typical Lucia as she watched the other two, cracking up as well. Typical Derek, as Typical Jamie elbowed him. Jamie's words were readable, as she mouthed to Derek, "Shut. Da. Hell. Up."
Only, Derek dropped to his knees and spread his arms out like an eagle ready to fly. "And many more on channel four..."
"And a big fat lady on channel eighty," Lisa joined in.
Jamie gave a smile. "Happy birthday, Matty."
"Make a wish, sweetheart," Lucia said and gestured to the cookie cake.
"Remember," Lisa chimed back in, "always keep your wish a secret. Don't jinx that shit."
"Lisa..."
"Sorry, Lucia."
Matt gazed down at the chocolate chip cookie, seamlessly well-designed. An icing cutout of a basketball, outlined in black and white frosting, sat in the center of the cookie itself. From top to bottom, beady stars were scattered everywhere and sketched out in brown frosted lukewarm syrup. Colored sprinkles and M&M's of all sizes aligned with the crust.
Three weeks ago:
A machine sitting underneath the banner. "CLASS OF 2006. CONGRATS GRADS," sputtered out confetti onto the graduates. Matt caught a few of them in his hands. Most were designs of tiny size caps and gowns and the big ol' 06 and 2006. Jamie had a few stuck in her curly hair. She would only curl her hair on special occasions. Matt removed the one piece of confetti that had drifted onto her cheek. It was a red snowflake. She smiled at his intrigued expression and pulled him in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his lower back. He dropped the piece of confetti, as his arms mocked hers... grazing over the small of her back. Skin to skin.
***
Back in the dining room, his eyes were already closed. He leaned forward and the calligraphic words at the bottom of the cookie, in sky blue frosting, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! WE LOVE YOU, was just inches from his T-shirt.
"Here," she said. Then, he felt a whiff of cold air against the side of his body. He knew it was her. That voice. Jamie had pulled back his T-shirt, so the icing would not stain it.
He felt the back of his T-shirt tightening against his lower back. She refused to let go, until he stood up again.
In that moment of darkness (quite literally), his heart picked up tempo as he asked, not stated, "Thanks?" His cheeks grew hot. He clenched his fingers into tiny boxing gloves--the only tick that sped down his pulse. His lips shaped into a perfect 'O', he inhaled and held his breath for an instance. This was what he wanted: them; his friends and Lucia. But his world of darkness was also missing something else: them.
"Come on, Matt!" Derek said. "Matt! Matt!"
His mother, His father, his grandfather, they were no longer with him and Lucia.
Matt exhaled and blew out the burning flame of the candle One and Four. The dining room exploded into a round of victory as his friend pounded their feet against the wooden door. Derek even gave a few dog barks. Lisa clapped her hands around in circles. Jamie whistled between the small gaps on her four bottom teeth.
"And he's officially fourteen!" Lucia praised in pitch blackness.
About the Author:
Natalie Rodriguez is an award-winning writer, director, and mental health and anti-violence/trauma advocate based in Los Angeles, CA. In 2014, she graduated from California State University, Fullerton with a Bachelor of Arts in Radio-Television-Film. Her first experience in entertainment was an internship at the Conan O'Brien show and Peter Guber's Mandalay Pictures, where she worked at the offices of producers Matthew Rhodes ("Cherry," "Men in Black: International") and Academy-winner, Cathy Schulman ("Sharp Objects," "Crash").
Natalie was also a panelist at events, including Google, Hispanicize, and YouTube, where she has shared her story as a writer, filmmaker, and a female working in the entertainment industry. Some of her previous writing work can be found in publications such as the HuffPost Blog, Thrive Global, Anxiety Resource Center, Opposing Views, NowThis News, Zooey Deschanel's Hello Giggles, The Mighty, and more.
In 2017, she founded her production company, Extraordinary Pictures, focusing on both films, television, digital series, and social issue projects. The company has a list of projects in its roaster, including development on a TV sitcom, "The D," which placed in top-ten for best comedy screenplays at Stage 32. At the moment, Natalie's second directional feature film, "Howard Original," is in post-production and set for an August 2020 release date on YouTube Premium. The film is based on the award-winning short film about a washed-up screenwriter named Howard, who encounters more than just selling a story, a studio rejection, and writer's block when his pet cat comes to life.
Natalie's directional feature film, "The Extraordinary Ordinary," which she also wrote, produced, and was the executive producer on, is making its round though the festival circuit. The film deals with young adults, mental health awareness, and the aftermath of trauma. The film won 'Best Film About Women's Empowerment' at the Glendale International Film Festival and scored nominations in Best Director, Best Female Director, and Best Picture. The film also had a sold-out world premiere screening at the Los Angeles Diversity Film Festival (LADFF), winning 'Best Performance' by the leading actress, Maddison Bullock. Further details on the project can be found @theextraordfilm, including recent film festival awards and nominations.
Her other screenplays and films have also been featured and placed in the final rounds at HollyShorts Film Festival, NALIP: Latino Lens Film Festival, ShortsTV, Stage 32: Comedy Screenplay, Beverly Hills Film Festival, Culver City Film Festival, Indie Night Film Festival, Hollywood Screenplay Contest, Table Read My Screenplay - Austin Film Festival, and others.
Natalie was most recently an ambassador for Jen Zeano Designs (JZD), a clothing company in association with USA Networks. While she continues to build her creative background, Natalie is always open to collaborating with other artists and advocates. Currently, she awaits the publication of her first young adult novel this April 2020, "Elephant," a story about four childhood best friends who uncover a family secret. The book was also a finalist at Clare Books' the Binge-Watching Cure II contest for 'Best Novel.'
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