Second Chances, take 2.

This is a re-write of a story I wrote in 2014 (here). In this case, I've flipped it over to the other character's point of view. Same dialogue, but we'll see what happens.

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I walked down the street to a place I used to hang out. It had been ages since I'd been there last and I wondered if I'd see him or not. I got so caught up in my thinking I almost walked right by it.

Backing up a bit, I looked in the window. There he was in the center row, third booth from the front, facing the door. It was his usual spot. His sandy blonde hair was a little longer than I remembered, but it looked like him.

I opened the door and stepped inside. The smell of fresh coffee and baked goods in the air was a familiar one. I took a couple of steps toward his table.

"Steven, is that you?"

Steven looked up at me, a bit of a surprised look on his face.

"Hey, Jen," he said. "It's been a long time."

"I meant to call," I said, walking over to the table. "It just happened so fast."

"What happened so fast? The wedding had been planned for over a year."

I closed my eyes and let my head drop until my chin was touching my chest, a soft sigh escaping my lips.

"I was scared," I whispered. "It seemed like you were too good to be true."

I slowly slid into the booth across the table from him. I looked up at him and saw the gentle gaze of his light blue eyes.

"You could have at least sent me a postcard," he said. "When I called your apartment, your roommate said you'd left and didn't say where you were going."

He closed his laptop, not bothering to turn it off first.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't tell anyone where I was going because I wasn't sure myself."

"And when you got there?"

"I figured you'd never want to speak to me again."

"Well, this conversation proves that wasn't true." He picked up the computer and put it down on the seat next to him.

I couldn't help but giggle a bit at that. My nose started to run a little, so I sniffled a bit before picking up a napkin to wipe it. After I put the napkin back on the table, I reached my hands across the table toward him.

"Do you believe in second chances?" I said, just above a whisper.

"You know I do," he said. He took my hands and smiled at me. "How did you even know I'd be here?"

"You're a creature of habit, my dear boy," I said, smiling back at him. "I remember the manager calling me one day when you didn't show up at your regular time."

"As I recall, you were taking care of me because I was on my couch, sick with the flu."

Steven didn't get sick often, but when he did, he was downright helpless, or so he would lead me to believe.

"Your memory is as sharp as I remember," I said.

Steven chuckled a little at that.

I said, "You know, I told my sister I was going to come down here."

"What did Susan say?" Steven said, smirking a bit. He and Susan were both writers and constantly threw sarcastic comments back and forth about each others projects. They got along almost as well as he and I did.

"She said, 'Be prepared for the worst, but I'll hope for the best.'"

"Good philosophy to live by." He started to put his laptop back in his bag. "You want to get dinner? I haven't eaten."

"Sure," I said, smiling a bit. "The all-night diner down by the river?"

"You know me too well."

We got up and I waited for him to put his jacket on. After he slid the strap of his computer bag over his shoulder, I grabbed his hand and started to gently lead him toward the door.

Sometimes, you have to take a chance to get a second one.

Day 7, Take 2

My birthday came at the beginning of my busiest week in a long time, so that would be why I didn't get a lot of writing done. I went back into the archives for today's post. It's a poem from several years ago.

Love

A warm hug.

A soft kiss.

A whispered secret.

A shared future.

A young child.

A cherished pet.

A valued friend.

A storied past.

A welcoming home.

A familiar place.

A favorite food.

A stuffed bear.

This is love.

Day 2, Take 2

Mr. Viikatemies Pays A Visit

"Where is that sonofabitch?!"

Cliff looked up from his desk, cluttered as it usually was, and up at the clock on the wall. His employees knew they shouldn't be late to meetings with him. Tardiness was something that tended to make him cranky.

His assistant, Jaclyn, having heard him shout, stuck her head in the door.

"Clifford," she said, in that proper British accent of hers, "you know what the doctor said about getting excited."

Cliff smirked at that. He thought Jaclyn had only called him that because she knew she was the only person in the company that could get away with it. If anyone else had done it, he'd have fired them on the spot.

"Yes, mother," he said, feigning an accent of his own.

Cliff Pollard built Pollard, Inc. from the ground up. He started this pharmaceutical company in his garage some thirty years ago and it now had gross profits in the tens of millions every month. His office, on the top floor of the company's headquarters on a sprawling campus in the Chicago suburbs, was not as ornate as you might think. The walls were lined with oak paneling and the desk was large to be sure, but the floor was covered in carpeting that was almost as old as Cliff was. He made sure it was well taken care of.

Cliff was a rotund man with thinning grey hair and light brown eyes. He had on his favorite grey suit with a white dress shirt and a pink paisley tie Jaclyn had bought him for Christmas last year.

A few more minutes ticked by much too slowly for Cliff's liking and he took to fiddling with a pencil and tapping it on his desk out of boredom.

Jaclyn stuck her head around the door again and said, "Clifford, there is a Mr. Viikatemies here to see you." She looked back over her shoulder and said, "Did I pronounce that correctly?"

Without waiting for an answer from Cliff or Jaclyn, a tall, slender man with pale blonde hair, blue eyes and sharp facial features walked into the office. He had a thin smile on his face and said to Jaclyn, "Like a native of Helsinki, my dear. Thank you."

Jaclyn blushed a bit and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Cliff took a longer look at the man before him. Mr. Viikatemies was dressed in a black suit with white pinstripes, a black shirt and black tie. His shoes were black patent leather, clean enough you could get a good reflection in them.

Cliff smiled a bit, hoping he didn't look as nervous as he felt. "Please, sir, have a seat."

Mr. Viikatemies sat down in the chair facing Cliff's desk and crossed his legs in front of him, his hands in his lap. He said, "I think you know why I'm here."

Cliff's eyebrows lifted a bit at that. "It's really that time already?" he asked.

Mr. Viikatemies simply nodded.

"I was hoping I'd have more time," Cliff whispered.

"That's what they all say."

"Can't we make other arrangements?"

"You should have thought about that a long time ago."

Cliff looked down at his desk and sighed softly. "Is there anything I can say to change your mind?"

Mr. Viikatemies smirked a bit at that. "No, there really isn't. That's not how these things work."

"Not even stock options? We make huge profits on a regular basis..."

"No."

"There has to be a way to..." Cliff stopped in mid-sentence and his head dropped to the desk.

Mr. Viikatemies stood up, quietly muttering, "They always try to bargain." He waved his hand toward the door and then vanished.

Jaclyn opened the door and looked toward the desk. "Clifford?!" She ran to her boss's side, but it was too late. Cliff had suffered a massive heart attack and was dead by the time his head hit the desk.

Jaclyn let out a soft sigh and said, "Clifford, what did the doctor tell you?"

The End

Day 1, Take 2.

Thought I'd try this again. After all, I'm turning 45 today and I might as well do a little something. I'm going to try writing every day, but I may stock up on things and publish them when the mood hasn't struck on a particular day.

Today, though, I'm going to rewrite a short story I wrote a long time ago. It's a little fairy tale and I hope you like it. Come to think of it, I hope I do too.

The Princess

There was once a young princess who lived in the biggest castle in all the land with her father, the king. She was regarded by all who had seen her as the most beautiful girl in the entire kingdom. She had long, curly hair with eyes so blue that if you fell into them you would surely drown. Her dresses were made with the finest silks money could buy. She only used the most expensive ribbons to tie up her hair.

However, with all that she had, there was a large problem. The princess, you see, was lonely. Surely, a princess as lovely as this had many suitors, as this one did, but none of them could satisfy her. It wasn't that they were not handsome, as they all were, but still satisfied she was not.

Each of them tried to win her heart by complimenting her beauty, but this bored her as they were all saying the same things, over and over.

Then they tried bringing her large bouquets of flowers, which she simply planted in the royal garden, already the largest in the land.

Next, they each tried writing her poems. Surely, the words were different, but they all said the same thing.

Then, one day, a stranger appeared in the city. He was from a far off land no one had ever heard of before. He bought a single red rose and walked toward the castle. Outside, many of the princess's suitors were wandering around with long faces.

The stranger asked, "What is wrong, my good fellows?"

One of them said, "We've all tried winning the princess's heart, but we've all failed."

Then one of the other men noticed the rose the stranger was holding. "Look," he said, "this fool thinks he can win the princess's heart with one rose," and started to laugh. The others turned and looked at the stranger and then they started laughing too.

Then another man said, "He's also not as handsome as we are." It was true. He was dressed just as nicely as they were, but his face was plain. He wasn't ugly, but his face was just not remarkable in any way.

Even in the face of this derision, the stranger was undeterred, and even smiled a bit as he turned to walk to the castle gate.

Once he was inside, the stranger was led to the princess's room. As he introduced himself, he gently took her hand in his and brought it to his lips and softly kissed her.

He told her the news of her beauty had not been exaggerated when it had reached him in his faraway land. Then, he did something not one of her suitors had ever done before. He told her a joke.

She laughed. It was a gloriously beautiful laugh and it echoed throughout the castle. The king, not having heard his daughter laugh like this before, ran to her room.

When he arrived, the princess and her prince were locked in a tight embrace, kissing each other deeply. The king, not believing what he was seeing, asked his daughter if she was all right.

The princess said she had never been better and she had found the man she wanted to marry.

And they did marry and lived happily ever after.

The End

Day 6

A Political Rant

If there's one thing that has really hacked me off lately, it's probably the latest "scandal" around the President.

If you have to ask which one, I can't really say that I blame you. The one I'm referring to right now is the faux outrage over the salute that he made with a coffee cup in his hand.

To hear some conservatives talk, you'd almost think that he'd thrown a soldier on the floor and relieved himself on them.

I will grant you that he probably should have put the cup in his other hand. However, I would also point to several of Bush 43's salutes where he's holding his dog.

I suppose that's one of those things where IOIYAR applies. It's Okay If You're A Republican.

One of the people that irritated me the most on this issue was Fox Noise's Eric Bolling. He said the president should salute properly and show respect to the troops who are risking their lives for us.

This is the same nitwit who, on the same episode of his show, asked if the female pilot flying for the United Arab Emirates and dropping bombs on Islamic State oil refineries would be considered "boobs on the ground." It's Okay If You're A Republican.

I need to stop thinking about it. It's giving me a headache.

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Not all of the writing during this project will be fiction. I left open the form of the writing so that I could do whatever I felt like at the time. The point of the whole thing is to get writing done, nothing more.

Day 5

"Come here often?"

My eyebrows arched and I looked up in the direction of the voice. It belonged to a leggy redhead in a black cocktail dress.

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" I asked. "The key word in that phrase is 'line.'"

She blushed a little. "I'm a little out of practice."

"I can tell," I said, letting out a short chuckle. "Don't guys usually hit on you?"

"You would think so, but sometimes I think they're intimidated by my looks."

I got up from my barstool to get a better look. She was definitely a woman that any sighted man would be attracted to. Her hair fell just past her shoulders and she had it tucked behind her ears. Her eyes were a light hazel and complemented her hair nicely.

She turned a bit to give me a side view. The dress stretched in just the right places in front and back. It's not as if the dress was painted on, but there was not a lot of spare fabric.

"May I buy you a drink?" I asked, pointing to the seat next to the one I'd just gotten up from. "You certainly earned it."

It was her turn for arched eyebrows. "Earned it?"

"It's not every day that I get hit on by a woman who looks as good as you. I'd like to reward you for giving my ego a boost."

She sat down on the seat I'd pointed to and smiled a bit. "When you put it that way, how could I refuse?"

"You could've said 'no.' Happens often enough that I've lost track of how much."

She got a look on her face that seemed to be a mix of sympathy and empathy. I began to wonder if she sat down only because she felt sorry for me.

"Well, you're certainly one of the better dressed guys in here," she said. "Not often I see a man in a suit in here."

It was true. I did have a suit on, a blue one with a white shirt, top button undone. I had taken the tie off and put it in the jacket pocket when I'd gotten out of the car.

"They say the clothes make the man, right?" I said. "I'd rather not look like a slob in a bar."

The bartender came over to where we were sitting. "Whatcha drinkin'?"

"Moscow Mule for me," I said. "Get the lady whatever she wants."

"That sounds good," she said. "Make it two, Mike."

"You got it, Carol." Mike walked away to get our drinks.

It hadn't occurred to me to ask her name, considering I thought I was getting ready to get shot down again.

"So, Carol, huh? I'm Todd."

Carol giggled a bit and extended her hand. "Nice to meet you, Todd."

I took her hand and brought it to my lips, placing a light kiss on the back. "So, do you come here often?"

"You could say that," Carol said, a small smirk on her face.

I could feel the "What the..." look creeping across my face. Evidently, Carol could see it and smiled.

The sound of a pair of glasses being set down on the bar broke me out of the mental haze that had been starting to roll in over me.

"Anything else?" Mike asked.

"No, Mike," Carol said. "These are on me."

"But...," I said, having been transported to the Land of Confusion.

"Mike works for me," Carol said. "I own the bar."

"Doesn't it say Carl's Bar and Grill outside?"

"It does," Carol nodded. "I bought it from a man named Carl and found it was easier to just keep the name than change it for one letter."

I picked up my glass. "A toast."

Carol picked up hers and clinked it against mine. "To?"

"A night that keeps getting more interesting."

"I'll drink to that."

I can tell you now. It did.

Day 4

Second Chances

"Steven, is that you?"

I looked up in the direction of the voice. It was Jennifer, an ex-fiance I hadn't seen in  a couple of years.

"Hey, Jen," I said. "It's been a long time."

"I meant to call," Jennifer said, walking closer to my table at the coffee shop. "It just happened so fast."

"What happened so fast? The wedding had been planned for over a year."

She dropped her head, quietly looking at the floor, as if she wanted it to open up and swallow her. The long, brown hair that I'd loved so much covered her face.

"I was scared," she whispered. "It seemed like you were too good to be true."

Jennifer slid into the booth across the table from me. She looked up at me, tears forming in the corners of her jade green eyes.

"You could have at least sent me a postcard," I said. "When I called your apartment, your roommate said you'd left and didn't say where you were going." I closed my laptop, having lost interest in the news I'd been reading about.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I didn't tell anyone where I was going because I wasn't sure myself."

"And when you got there?"

"I figured you'd never want to speak to me again."

"Well, this conversation proves that wasn't true." I picked up the laptop and put it down on the seat next to me.

She giggled a little, then sniffled a bit before picking up a napkin to wipe her nose. When she was done, she reached her hands across the table toward me.

"Do you believe in second chances?" she said, quietly.

I'd never been able to resist Jennifer when she wanted to hold hands.

"You know I do," I said. I took her hands in mine and smiled at her. "How did you even know I'd be here?"

"You're a creature of habit, my dear boy," she said as she smiled. "I remember the manager calling me one day when you didn't show up at your regular time."

"As I recall, you were taking care of me because I was on my couch, sick with the flu."

"Your memory is as sharp as I remember."

I chuckled a little. It had been one of the few times I'd gotten sick in the four years we had been together.

Jennifer said, "You know, I told my sister I was going to come down here."

"What did Susan say?" Susan was the member of Jennifer's family I'd gotten along with the best. We constantly gave each other a hard time about the writing projects we were each working on.

"She said, 'Be prepared for the worst, but I'll hope for the best.'"

"Good philosophy to live by." I started to pack up my laptop. "You want to go get dinner? I haven't eaten."

"Sure," she smiled. "The all-night diner down by the river?"

"You know me too well."

We got up and she waited while I put on my jacket. After I put my computer bag over my shoulder, she grabbed my other hand and started leading me toward the door. Sometimes, second chances come when you least expect them.