James picked up the laminated menu and began searching for what made his stomach growl the loudest. Alex already knew what he wanted so he scanned the rundown cafe to see if anything had changed since their last visit.

Rudy’s Cafe had opened in 1981 according to the story on the back of the menu and the decor had never quite made it out of the decade. White and black linoleum tiles checkered the floor. Every inch of the walls and ceiling was covered with 1980′s memorabilia or movie posters. A life-size image of “The Fridge” stared at Alex from the door of the men’s restroom.

The high-pitched guitar intro of Sweet Child Of Mine had just begun when their waitress arrived. Alex guessed she somewhere in her 40′s. Her blonde hair had shades of red in it and hung down past her shoulders. The half smile that lifted her round cheeks made her blue eyes seem kind.

“Hi fellas. My name is Jenny and I’ll be your server today. Can I get you guys started with something to drink?”

Alex asked for water with lime and James ordered a sweet tea from behind his menu. There was nothing else for Alex to do while he waited for his friend so he continued to look around the restaurant. He was staring at the Goonies poster on the ceiling above them when James finally spoke.

“I used to love that movie.”

Alex looked down to see his friend looking up.

“Me too.”

Jenny returned with a glass in each hand. After setting their drinks in front of them she lid into the booth next to Alex and scooted him over with a playful bump and pulled out her order pad.

“So fellas, have you decided what you want?”

They both smiled. After writing down their order Jenny slid back out of the booth, tucked the pen behind her ear, and walked back toward the kitchen.

Alex took a sip of water before asking the question he had held on their drive there.  “So are you gonna ask Grace out or what?”

James rolled his eyes. “We go out. We meet up for coffee or to go the movies.”

“Dude. You guys hang out. But neither one of you knows if you are actually dating.” Alex threw up air quotes on the last word.

James took a deep breath and stared at the Empire Strikes Back poster that met the back of their table.

“I don’t know man. I keep getting mixed signals.”

Alex laughed. “All girl signals are mixed to guys. I wish they would just come out and tell us what they want. That would make life a whole lot easier.”

“Maybe that’s why they don’t. Guys love a challenge. If girls made things easy for us we’d probably just get bored.” James sighed before continuing, ” I just don’t know what to do. Feels like kindergarten all over again. The girls run from the boys and we are supposed to know which ones are running cause they like being chased and which ones are just trying to get away. I don’t want make a girl feel uncomfortable, but I don’t want to give up on a girl who wants to feel like she is worth being pursued either. The problem is that I can’t ever figure out which is which.”

Jenny had arrived halfway through James’ rant with a pitcher of water and was filling Alex’s glass with a smirk. Just as she turned to leave Alex got an idea.

“Hey Jenny. Can I ask you a question?”

Their waitress half-turned back and put a hand on her hip. “Ya just did sugar.”

James rolled his eyes, which made Alex smile even wider.

“Well then let me ask you another. How are guys supposed to know if a girl is playing hard to get or when she really is not interested?”

Jenny’s eyes sparkled as a wide grin spread across her lips. “Scoot over honey.”

She joined Alex with another little bump that was totally unnecessary because he had already slid to the far end of the booth.

“Girls will give you signs sugar. You just gotta learn how to read them.”

James snorted. “Women seem to think that the tiniest clue is as clear as day to guys. Well I got news for you, we don’t want clues. Why can’t women just make it clear? Sometimes a guy just needs a big sign that we can read from across the room.”

The smile on Jenny’s face dropped away with a slight head shake. She leaned in and rested her folded hands on the table.

“Oh honey… No you don’t. What you are asking for is for the girl to be the man and that aint never a good thing.”

James stared to object, but Jenny waived his words away with her hand.

“Listen. That uncertainty you feel, that fear, that’s important. Without it, what you do wouldn’t be brave or bold. And honey, girls like a little bravery in a man. There are women out there who take that challenge away from a guy, but you don’t want nothin’ to do with them. The girls with ‘the big sign’ pick men with weak hearts so that they can manipulate and control them. And some fellas want that. But I don’t get the sense that you’re one of them. You get a girl like that and you’ll both be fighting for the lead. And that don’t ever end pretty.”

Alex opened his mouth to say something, but Jenny kept going after a short breath.

“And don’t go thinking us gals have it easy. Waiting for you boys to figure anything out is no picnic. And then there’s the ladies who have let themselves get caught only to be let go because all the guy wanted was to see if he could catch her. It aint easy not knowin’ what kind of man is doin’ the chasin’ or waiting for to get chased at all.”

Silence fell over the table as the two friends let the words of their waitress sink in. Jenny slid out of the booth and picked up the pitcher of water.

“I should go check on your food.” She turned to leave, but James’ voice stopped her.

“You said that girls give signs, but what if I don’t ever figure out how to read them?”

Jenny’s eyes seemed to search the boys in her booth. They must have found something of worth because she took a step back towards them and lowered her voice into almost a whisper.

“Let me tell you a little secret. You’re assuming that women always know what they want, but we don’t. Sometimes we are trying to figure it out at the same time you are. Sometimes a girl only runs because she’s forgotten how good it feels to be caught.”

As Jenny spoke her last words her smile returned. She winked just before she turned and walked away. After a few moments of silence Alex began laughing.

James pulled his eyes away from where Jenny had just been asked, “What’s so funny?”

“I was just wondering why we couldn’t have had her as our waitress while I was still in college.”

James chuckled. “Yeah. Better late than never though.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

James rubbed his forehead until a crooked smile tugged at his lips.

“Two things. First, I’m gonna stop playing chase with Grace. It’s time to catch her and find out what she wants.”

Alex nodded in approval. “And the second thing?”

James smiled wide. “I’m gonna give Jenny a very big tip.”

Copyright © 2013 Adam Drake

Each time the door swung open he offered a curious glance in that direction, but the sight of the woman walking through the door turned a glance into a lingering stare. It was her. As she approached the counter to order, Mitch’s chest began to ache. The pain swelled until he realized that he was holding his breath. He let the air slowly escape through his nose and closed his eyes.

Two months ago he had been sitting at a table that was currently occupied by a large black man and his son when the soft click of heels on the beige tile pulled him out of the book he was reading. The woman wearing the shoes pulled dark sunglasses off her face and set them atop her black hair. Her skin was the color of Mitch’s coffee with cream and he wondered if it tasted as sweet. He shook the thought away and felt guilty for even thinking it.

She did not have the curves or features that most guys went for, but she was his type. A girl-next-door kind of beauty. He loved that she wasn’t wearing make-up. It told him that she had more to love about herself than her looks. A simple please when she ordered her latte made Mitch smile.  It was a small gesture that hinted at genuine kindness.

It was the please that started the war inside him. He desperately wanted to talk to her, but did not know how.

What do I say? She’s gonna think I’m some kind of creeper. I don’t want to annoy her. She would just say no. She’s out of my league anyway.

The barista’s voice snapped his attention back to the woman.

“I have a vanilla latte for Christina.”

After ten imaginary conversations she didn’t know she’d been a part of, Christina picked up her latte, replaced her sunglasses, and strolled out of Mitch’s life without him moving an inch. The next hour was spent alternating between trying to forget the whole incident and beating himself up for his cowardice. He made the promise that every shy guy makes to himself because a promise is easy to make when you don’t believe you will ever have to keep it. Under his breath, with all the bravado that his pretend courage brought, he declared, “If I ever see that girl again I will go talk to her.”

Now, Christine was back and that promise echoed through his mind. He took a deep breath and readied himself to stand. The weight of every insecurity and fear suddenly pressed down on him like a bag of bricks. And each brick had a name. Crooked tooth. Stupid laugh. Belly fat. Lack of confidence. Fear of commitment.

Mitch knew that those bricks could only be as heavy as he allowed them to be, but in that moment their weight was crushing him. The words he had spoken last time he saw her whispered to his pride. One brick he had never allowed to get in his bag was promise breaker. After setting his laptop aside he planted his hands on the brown leather arm rests of his chair and forced himself up to his feet.

The barista had already placed Christina’s drink on the bar so he knew he needed to act quickly. Fear gripped Mitch’s legs, but his determination nudged him towards her. As the gap narrowed his heart began to thump wildly inside his chest. He watched her inspect her drink before heading to the condiment bar. He stopped next to her just as she reached for a napkin.

Pulling a couple napkins free she turned to see him standing there. He suddenly realized that he did not have a drink with him and had no reason to be this close to her.

“Hi.”

It came out just above a whisper. A look of confusion flicked across her eyes for a split second before she smiled and said, “Hello.”

Her smile sent Mitch into a panic and he decided that he needed a reason for standing there. He turned away from her and pulled a couple napkins out of the dispenser on his side. All he had to do was tell her that she was beautiful and take her awkward thanks like a man. He turned back and opened his mouth to speak, but the words never came out. She had already moved past him and was walking toward the exit.

Mitch watched her go with a strange mix of relief and regret flooding his stomach. He tried to throw away the napkins he had just grabbed, but the ball they had been crushed into stuck to the sweat of his hand. They fell onto the counter after a frustrated shake so he picked them up and dropped them into the trash.

It had been a long time since he had walked the walk of shame. Each step back to his seat etched a letter in one more brick for his sack. F. A. I. L. U. R. E.

Mitch dropped into his seat and breathed a sigh into his folded hands.

“You wanna know the secret to asking a girl out?”

Mitch looked up and saw the black man smiling at him. His son sat with his back to Mitch playing a game on his phone. Mitch wanted to look around as if to say, “Were you talking to me?” but if his failed attempt to sweep Christine off her feet was that obvious then there was no point in making more of a fool of himself.

“Does it involve large quantities of alcohol?”

A deep rumbling laugh erupted out of the man causing his son to look up for a millisecond before returning his attention to his game.

“No. But that might not be a bad second option!”

The man’s smile held no mockery. His big brown eyes somehow conveyed a kindness that Mitch felt starved for.

“Okay. What’s the secret?”

“Just ask.”

All the hope that had filled him left with the single laugh that escaped his lips. If he had stopped to think about it, he would have realized that using a sarcastic tone with a stranger twice his size was not the wisest decision, but the words came before his mind could intervene.

“Thanks. You’ve changed my life forever.”

The man smiled with the patience of a longtime friend. He nodded at his son and said, “First time I saw his mother, you know what I said to her?”

He didn’t wait for another sarcastic reply before answering his own question.

“Nothin! I was playing football and I could charge a 300 pound lineman without a second thought, but try talkin’ to a 120 pound girl and my knees would start wobblin’ like I was in an earthquake.”

Mitch nodded a knowing reply. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Luckily the man just kept going.

“Then one of my professors told our class about an experiment that made me realize how stupid I was being. A group of sociologists had two groups of people take a test. One group was made up of just normal volunteers. The other group was made up of students who were studying engineering. Both groups were brought through this modern lab with all sorts of cool gadgets and technology before they got to the testing room. In that room the volunteers had to reach their hands into a box and feel what was inside, then tell the researchers what it was. You know what happened?”

Mitch shook his head.

“The regular volunteers all got it right, but most of the engineering students guessed wrong. Funny thing about it was that they just put normal stuff in the box. A big Lego, or cell phone, a globe… stuff like that. Most people would reach in there, recognize what it was, pull their hand out, and tell them. But something funny happened when the engineering students put their hands in. They would leave their hands in for a lot longer than the other people. And the longer they left their hands in the box, the further from the truth they got. A Lego became a miniature remote control. The more they thought about it, the more they made those things into something they weren’t.”

Mitch laughed and suddenly felt like an idiot.

“So you’re saying that I’m making this whole thing worse than it needs to be?”

The man shrugged.

“I can’t speak for you. I just remember a light bulb clicking on when I heard that. I realized that sometimes a Lego is just a Lego. I made asking a girl out into all sorts of stuff it wasn’t. It wasn’t a contest to determine how good-looking I was. It wasn’t a test to see if I was worthy of someone. It wasn’t even about conquering my fears. It was just asking a girl out.”

Mitch looked from the man to his son. He knew the answer to his question, but not the details.

“So after that you just asked her out and the rest is history?”

His smile spread wider showing nearly every tooth in his mouth.

“Yes and no. I saw Monica again that week, but even with the story on my mind I couldn’t do it. I told myself that I would do it the next time, but I got so mad at myself that night that I put a hole in my wall. The next day I went to the store and bought a little box of Legos. I carried one of the pieces in my pocket with me everywhere I went and promised myself that the next time I saw her I would do it. All it was was a guy asking a girl out. And I kept that promise.”

Mitch grinned. It was a strange thought to think of someone who looked so big and strong having the same fears as him.

“And she said yes?”

Another laugh rolled through his barrel chest.

“Actually, she said, ‘About damn time!’”

They both laughed. It felt good. It felt like the man had reached over and swept away the bricks that still weighed on him. If he had never said another word, that would have been enough, but he was not done.

“Tell you what. I wanna give you something.” His great big hands reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys as he spoke. “After we had been dating for a while we were talking. She had seen me every time I had seen her and could tell I wanted to ask her out. She said she nearly gave up on me. I just smiled and told her about the Lego. We dated for a little over a year and I knew she was the one. But the same old fears crept up when I wanted to ask her to marry me. Then one night I hear a knock on my door. I open it, but no one’s there. I almost missed it, but the little box caught my eye as I was closing the door. I stopped and picked up the present someone had left there. When I opened it I found this.”

He had pulled a couple keys off his key ring and held it up for me to see. It was a red Lego that had been attached to a small chain and ring.

“I think it was her way of telling me to just ask. Been using it ever since. We’ve been married thirteen years now.”

The man stood up and the fullness of his size seemed to fill the small cafe. It only took a couple steps for him to reach Mitch. He towered over him and held out the Lego key ring.

“Here.”

Mitch sat frozen. How could he take a gift that was so personal to this kind giant? He held up his hands to say that he couldn’t, but the man lowered his gaze a bit and Mitch knew that he would not take no for an answer. He reached up and took the red plastic piece in his hand. His thumb rubbed the top, feeling the bumps.

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I mean, that doesn’t seem strong enough. This has so much meaning for you. It doesn’t feel right…”

The man brushed it off with a wave.

“I got a better gift now.” He said with a wink.

Mitch transferred the Lego to his left hand and extended his right hand to the man. His giant paw enveloped Mitch’s hand. They shook an understanding shake before the man turned without another word. He rubbed his son’s head and nodded toward the door. Part of Mitch wanted the man to look back one last time, but he never did.

He held the Lego in his hands and laughed at how stupid he had been. Quietly he made one more promise to himself.

“If I ever see that man again I’m going to introduce him to Christina.”

Copyright © 2013 Adam Drake

An elderly man in a bright Tommy Bahama shirt began unlocking his car on the far side of the street. Cars covered every meter that Paul could see so he wasted no time pulling around and flipping on his blinker.  It only took about three minutes and what looked like a well-practiced fourteen point turn for the man to get his Buick out of the small space. As he slowly rolled away Paul slid his little Honda into the space easily and threw it in park.

He still wasn’t sure why he was here. The invitation was most likely an elaborate way to get him to sit through a time-share presentation, but it didn’t have the same tone as a marketing ploy. He grabbed it off his passenger seat and twisted it until he could read it again in the streetlight.

Mr. Weeks,

Your presence is requested at The Other Eight event. This is a private affair so please, no guests. Dinner, dessert, and drinks will all be provided free of charge. Your participation in this event is of the utmost importance.

7:00 p.m.

May 7th, 2013

La Cantina Antelo

756 E. Jefferson

Please RSVP

TheOtherEight@GMail.com

Paul tried once again to think of what else it might be, but could not add anything to his mental list that he had not already thought of. Free food and drinks. It was worth a shot. He could always leave if it turned into a sales pitch.

La Cantina Antelo was much nicer on the inside than the exterior suggested. Saltillo tiles stretched out like an orange sea that crashed against walls of wood and beige plaster. Turquoise seats with iron legs and backs stood like soldiers at attention along the front of a bar with a mosaic of colorful tiles along its front. Paul thought that it was strange to have so much color and then leave the lights dim.

The hostess returned from within the restaurant and stopped at her podium. Like most hostesses, she was young and pretty. Her raven colored hair was so dark that it almost made her tanned skin seem pale.

“Welcome to Cantina Antelo. How many?”

Paul lifted the invitation. He barely got out the words, “I recieved…” when she nodded.

“Right this way sir.”

She turned briskly sending her black ponytail on a pendulum swing. He slid the invitation into his back pocket and watched her hair sweep back and forth across the middle of her back as she led him to a private dining area in the rear of the restaurant.

The hostess stopped just short of the open entrance with a rounded top and held out a hand to indicate he should go in. Paul stepped next to her and peeked inside. Three tables with orange and blue tiles inlaid along the top had been placed end to end. Paul counted nine wooden high-backed chairs. Three of them were filled with men that looked up as he stepped into the doorway. A white card folded to stand up had been placed on the plate at the head of the table. Fancy black letters spelled RESERVED on both sides. Paul didn’t recognize any of the faces that looked up at him. He turned to the hostess to ask her a question but she had already slipped away.

Silence captured the room as Paul turned back. His mind shouted at him to leave, but his feet were frozen in place. To make matters worse, he could feel his hands starting to get clammy with sweat. The awkward standoff was broken after what seemed like an hour when the guy nearest to him stood up, walked over and offered his hand. He was taller than Paul by a few inches. His brown eyes seemed kind.

“Hey. I’m Josh.”

Paul shook his hand and immediately realized he should have wiped it on his jeans first.

“Oh… sorry. I’m Paul.”

The two others sat on the far side of the table. They didn’t stand, but told him their names. Jared introduced himself first. He had brown skin and black hair gave him a Hispanic look, but Paul couldn’t tell for sure what nationality he was. His perfect teeth were on display through the grin he wore. Paul wondered if he was truly amused at the whole situation or if he just wanted to show his beautiful chompers. To Jared’s left sat Andrew. He filled his chair to capacity and then some. Blonde hair sat slightly disheveled on top of his head giving him the look of a little boy whose mother would show up at any moment to lick her hand and fix it. His hands were wringing a white cloth napkin. Paul nodded a quiet greeting to both. Josh returned to his seat and picked up something from the table.

“Did you get one of these too?”

He was holding an identical invitation to the one he had received. Paul pulled his invitation from his pocket and held it up.

“Yeah. So what’s this all about?”

Jared laughed a sort of chortle that reminded Paul of a turkey. He still hadn’t stopped smiling. When he spoke his smile could be heard in his high-pitched voice.

“None of us knows. We were hoping you might be able to tell us.”

The whole situation was starting to feel like a setup. Paul was tempted to leave and not give whoever was throwing this little function the satisfaction of his participation, but his curiosity was growing like a fire. Each second that passed was just another log thrown into the flames.

He pulled out the chair next to Josh to sit down when he saw the three heads all whip towards the door. Paul turned and saw another confused participant in whatever game this was enter the room.

The man stood frozen for a moment. His brown eyes searched the four men who were staring back at him. The first thing Paul noticed about him was his muscles. They strained the fabric at the sleeves and chest of his white v-neck shirt. He was the perfect kind of fit. Strong and lean without looking like he was competing in a World’s Strongest Man contest. He seemed to bask in the attention of the room for a moment before flicking up his invitation between two fingers.

“You guys got one of these too, huh?”

After his initial pause the newest member of the confused group slipped into a confidence that bordered on cockiness. Paul didn’t buy it though. He had known guys like this before and he would have bet his confidence was as fake as his orangy-brown tan. All those muscles were just a big mask. Josh, who had become the unofficial spokesman of the group, nodded and introduced himself.

“I’m Josh. This is Jared and Andrew and… sorry.”

“Paul.” he said as he sat in the seat.

The guy’s eyes followed each introduction. After a short head bob of acknowledgement he walked around to the far side of the table and flipped open one of the plastic menus that rested in front of each chair. Paul and Jared looked at each other. Jared smiled wider.

“And you are?”

“Christian.” he said without looking up. “You guys don’t have a clue as to what this is about do you?”

It was Josh who answered. Paul saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes, but he didn’t let it reach his voice.

“Nope. That seems to be the question of the night. You have any ideas?”

Christian stopped inspecting his dinner options and looked up. His eyes passed over each man once more and came to rest on Paul.

“What high school did you go to?”

“Washington.”

“Hmmm. Then nope. You guys haven’t pissed off any drug dealers lately have you?” he asked with the slightest laugh. Jared laughed again while Andrew began wringing his napkin even tighter.

Their waitress for the evening walked in with a tray of warm tortilla chips and salsa. She introduced herself as Mary Ann and distributed the chips and salsa at even intervals along the table before getting their drink orders. Christian finally sat down on the far side of the table, leaving an empty seat between himself and Jared.

Andrew let his napkin fall into his lap and grabbed a handful of chips for his plate. Soft crunches replaced the questions as everyone followed his lead. They all seemed content to just snack until the next guest arrived. It only took a minute.

“Oh balls!”

Everyone stared at the doorway to inspect the next piece of the puzzle. He had a round face like a puppet, but it was not because he was fat. His black fadora and squared glasses made him look like someone who could rattle off all the coolest bands you’ve never heard of. A crooked smile would have split his lips had his hand not been there to keep them closed. He laughed at some inside joke.

“What’s so funny chuckles?” Christian asked.

“Sorry.” he said dropping his hand. “I thought I was coming to a bachelor party for a friend of mine. His fiancé has eight bridesmaids and I thought he was being clever.”

“So you don’t know why you’re here either?” asked Paul.

He shook his head as the smile slowly receded from his lips. Josh stood up again and introduced himself. The newest arrival introduced himself as Micah. Everyone else went around the table nodding or raising a hand and sharing their name in return.

Two more arrived a minute later. They came in together, but it was evident that they didn’t know each other. Josh played host once more. After introducing themselves Vernon and Mateo stared at the well-practiced routine of everyone introducing themselves before sitting down in the last two empty chairs along the sides of the table.

Light conversations picked up in pairs or small groups, but even as they spoke about careers or hobbies they searched for the common thread that tied them to this group of eight. Mary Ann returned with the first round of drinks and quickly took the drink orders for the new arrivals.

Paul watched it all with fascination. Some guys quickly fell into the comfortable conversation of sports while others inspected their invitations looking for differences or clues. Andrew sat at the end content to be ignored. Christian had already finished his first Corona and ordered another when Mary Ann brought the second wave of drinks.

If the group was a puzzle Paul didn’t feel like he was close to solving it. Every time he thought of a possible similarity he found at least one exception. The only constant that he knew for sure was that everyone in the room was male. That had to be important somehow, but the answer to that “why?” could be any one of a million things. His curiosity was beginning to frustrate him, so he decided to distract himself. He flipped through the menu searching for a meal that he would normally pass over because of the price.

“Oh good. You’ve all made it.”

The arrival of new voice pulled the plug on all conversation. The man who stood in the doorway had to be their host. There was only one chair remaining. His green eyes sparkled with joy as he looked around the room. Messy brown hair topped a narrow face. His high cheeks and pointed nose almost gave him the look of bird. He wore a white and blue striped button down shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms and dark jeans. It was a look that straddled the line between casual and dressed up perfectly.

Paul glanced at the faces of the men around the table. If any of them knew their host their faces did not show it.

“It took a lot of work to track you all down.”

Nervous glances twitched on a few faces. Josh broke the tension first.

“Is this some kind of sales pitch or something?”

Paul smiled to himself. It looked like he wasn’t the only one that thought that was the most likely scenario. Their host tilted his head back and laughed.

“No! Not at all. I was actually afraid you guys would figure it out before I got here.” He paused. “No one know yet?”

Everyone shook their heads no. It reminded Paul of the bobble head on his desk.

“Cut the crap man. Tell us why we are.”

It was Christian. He was leaning back in his chair and had his big arms crossed over his chest.

Their host studied him for a moment and then sat down at the head of the table. He picked up the plate with the card on it and set them both aside. Leaning in, he folded his hand in front of himself.

“My name is David Eaton. And I need your help to marry the girl of my dreams.”

Paul laughed. He didn’t mean to, but it burst out of his mouth before he even knew it was coming. All eyes turned to him. He pulled his hands off the table and began to wipe them on his pants. If no one else wanted to ask the question then he guessed it was up to him.

“How, exactly, are we supposed to do that?”

David smiled.

“I’m glad you asked. I met her five months ago and from the moment I saw her I knew she was the one. We have been dating since then and I don’t see any point in waiting to ask her to marry me. I am a bit of an old school kind of guy so I felt that asking her father for her hand was the right thing to do. He was not as enthusiastic about the idea as I was.”

The smile he had been wearing had disappeared.

“That sucks bro.” This time it was Jared who spoke up. He didn’t seem too heartbroken though and still wore his perfect smile. “What do you want us to do about it?”

“Well, we came to a sort of agreement. He thinks that I don’t know her well enough to make such a lasting decision and I don’t want to delay beginning to spend the rest of my life with her. He thinks that apart from family, no one knows a girl better and will tell the truth about her more than her ex-boyfriends. He said that if I spoke to the other eight men that she had dated, listened to everything they had to say, and still wanted to marry her afterward, then he would give me his blessing.”

The words hung in the air. Everyone suddenly was aware of the thread that tied them together. Paul almost asked it first, but Josh beat him by a fraction of a second.

“Who is this girl?”

“Lindsey Covington.”

The reactions on the faces of the men around the table covered the spectrum. Someone cussed. A few laughed. No face in the room looked more shocked than Paul’s. Questions began flying in all directions. You dated Lindsey? How long were you guys together? Did she ever do this or that when she was with you?

No one heard it in the clamor that suddenly enveloped the table, but Paul mumbled to himself, “No. Not Lindsey. Not my Lindsey…”

Author’s Note: Hey guys! It’s been a while. I need your opinions. I wrote this as the opening chapter to a book. It’s a first draft so there might be some spelling/grammar mistakes or sentences that could be worded better, but that’s not really what I’m after right now. I’d like to know 2 things. (And keep in mind, I desire honesty above all else.) One, if you picked this up in a bookstore or read it as a sample of an e-book would you keep reading? And two, what do you think about the premise?

The book would be a hybrid of the main story covered in this chapter and the short stories of each guy’s experiences and/or dates with Lindsey. They would all share the good or the bad as David decides what to believe and if he truly wants to marry her. Also, Paul, is still in love with her and is torn between helping David or convincing him that Lindsey is not who he thinks she is.

If anyone would care to share any thoughts I would greatly appreciate it.

Copyright © 2013 Adam Drake

The soft pop of a chair flapping down drew her attention. She was ready to explain that the seat was saved for a friend, but much to her surprise it was Mark that had sat down with a Starbucks cup in his right hand. Whatever caffeine the beverage was providing had clearly not reached his half-asleep eyelids yet.

“What’s this? You have actually made it before church has started! I’m impressed.”

Mark rubbed the inside corner of one eye and mumbled, “Yeah. I’m awesome. Your nagging has helped break a pretty impressive streak though.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, but smiled on the inside. Mark was one of the most stubborn men she had ever met. Getting him to change anything felt like a victory for her. There was no way she would let him know that though.

“I don’t know anyone who would be impressed by that streak.”

Over the past few months friendly mockery had become their customary greeting. They still had about ten minutes or so before the service would begin. Sarah hoped that he might be more talkative in his drowsy state and asked him how his week was.

“Good. How about yours?”

A one-word answer was not exactly what she was hoping for, but neither did it surprise her. Before she had gotten to know him better, Sarah thought that he was just shy. Now she knew better. Mark was highly intelligent and chose his words carefully. He used the time most people spent talking to watch those around him. It gave him an air of mystery that Sarah found equally intriguing and frustrating.  She had witnessed brief glimpses of his gentle heart and figured that for him the easiest way to protect it was to not let anyone too close to it.

“Mine was good. My roommate and I went to check out a new restaurant for her birthday and it was really good.”

Mark just nodded.

Movement pulled both their eyes up at the same time. A woman close to their age, with long dark hair, walked down the row of seats in front of them. She was beautiful and Sarah liked the flowered scarf she wore. When she looked back at Mark he was still watching her. Sarah’s watched Mark track her all the way to her seat.

“You’re so shallow.”

His eyes narrowed at the accusation and looked hard at Sarah.

“How so?”

His voice was flat and held none of the joyful mockery that had been in it when he first sat down. Sarah proceeded with caution, but did not back down.

“You ogled that girl! I bet you never once thought about how kind or intelligent she is the whole time you were staring at her.”

“Ogled?”

Sarah nodded. “Ogled.”

Mark seemed to weigh her with his eyes before responding.

“I did not ogle. I appreciated her beauty. As a single guy, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. How else am I supposed to find a girl?”

Even as Sarah mentally warned herself to be careful, her insecurities pushed the words out of her mouth.

“How about get to know her? See what kind of personality she has. Find out what she is passionate about. Or maybe figure out her name before you memorize her measurements in your head.”

She could feel the emotion rising her voice and wondered if Mark could hear it. She hoped her smile hid how serious the subject felt.

“I would gladly do those things, but living my life with a blindfold on just to accomplish that seems a bit impractical. I am only using the tools God gave me to find a wife.”

A single syllable laugh broke through her smile. She put on her best preacher voice.

“And on the eighth day God created long legs and tiny waists and He saw that they were good!”

Without missing a beat Mark gave an enthusiastic, “Amen!”

He laughed when Sarah rolled her eyes, but grew serious once their eyes met again.

“Do you ever look at a sunset and enjoy its beauty?”

“That’s not the same. I can’t get to know the sunset. We can’t sit down and talk. All I can know about the sunset is what I see.”

Mark’s eyebrows lifted as he tilted his head to one side.

“That’s not true. You can find out what the temperature was, dew point, wind chill, etc…”

Sarah sighed and turned toward the stage. She hated arguing with him. He was a typical guy. He would argue to the death, even if he knew he was wrong, just to try and win.

The silence between them lasted for only a minute before Mark spoke again.

“Do you like chocolate cake?”

Without turning she replied, “I’m not going to argue with you.”

She felt his hand on her knee and turned. That was out of character for him. He respected people’s physical space and expected the same in return. He pulled his hand back and there was a softness in his eyes that had replaced the cold calculation.

“I don’t want to argue either. I want to help you see my point of view. I am not trying to convince you it is right. I only want you to understand what I believe.”

Sarah took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yes. I like chocolate cake.”

“Okay. I feel like you calling me shallow for looking at a beautiful girl is like me calling you shallow for eating chocolate cake. It’s the same as me telling you that you should only be eating foods that are good for you and anything else is wrong.”

One of the pastors appeared on the stage and began to welcome everyone. He would take about ten minutes to go through the announcements. It was a routine they had both heard several times and Sarah was not ready to set their conversation aside just yet. She whispered her response.

“But I am not trying to pick a food to have a lasting relationship with.”

“True. But you do have a lasting relationship with food. You have to eat everyday. Why did God give us taste buds if we are not meant to enjoy food?”

Sarah started to speak, but Mark held up his hand.

“That doesn’t mean that we are supposed to eat foods based on taste alone. But I don’t think ignoring something God created to bring us joy gives Him any more pleasure than us abusing it. It’s like a father giving his child a gift and the child never playing with it because they don’t think it’s educational. That would make him just as sad as the child taking the toy and trying to beat someone over the head with it.

There needs to be balance. One of the purposes of our bodies is to help us enjoy life. I think God, like a good father, smiles when He sees us smiling. He gave us taste buds to help us find foods we enjoy in the same way He gave us eyes to find people we will enjoy. To take away that side of the equation is no more healthy than to let it be the only focus.”

Sarah nodded as she began to understand what he was saying. She still did not quite buy it though.

“So guys are just like shoppers at Costco on Saturday? Just running around sampling everything that looks good. Girls are what… the food? We are just supposed to be as tasty as we can?”

Mark shook his head. “Guys are not the only ones who look at the outward appearance.”

He paused to give her a chance to deny it, but she remained silent.

“But again, balance is what I’m talking about. In the same way that I choose my food based on taste, nutrition, whether it gives me gas…”

Sarah scrunched her face and Mark smiled for a split second. As he continued, Sarah realized that this was the closest he had ever let her to his true feelings. She suddenly felt honored that he trusted her enough to open up.

“I want to find a wife based on several factors and I would be lying if I did not say that my physical attraction to her was not one of them. Is it the most important one? No. But it’s a part of it. I think a lot of unhealthy relationships are due to the fact that people don’t have balance. You date a girl only because she’s hot and that’s not gonna be enough to make it last. There has to be more there. But if you never tell someone you’re with how beautiful they are in your eyes, you also miss out on another way to make them feel loved and appreciated.

Relationships are like food in that way. If we only chose what we ate based on how it tasted, we would most likely become overweight with high cholesterol and a bunch of other health problems. The way food affects our bodies over time is similar to the way relationships affect our hearts. If you are only with someone who is beautiful on the outside, but lacks integrity, your heart will grow unhealthy too.

Taste is part of the equation God gave us to find and enjoy the foods we want to eat. And whether you like it or not, our eyes are one of the ways God gave us to find a spouse. I’m not looking for a chocolate cake. I want a girl with character and kindness, who challenges me and laughs with me, and if I can find it, who is fun to look at. I want someone who is healthy for my heart and my eyes. Like a raspberry.  Sweet, but filled with lots of vitamins.”

Everyone around them rose as the music began. Sarah was grateful for it. She did not know what to say after that. Mark joined the crowd and stood and after a few moments Sarah did too. When the music ended they sat down.

As the occasional “amen” rose from the crowd she realized that she was probably missing a good message. But she could not get her mind off their discussion.

Sarah knew she had some things going for her when she looked in the mirror, but she would never be on the cover of a magazine. It was an impossible standard by which to be measured. Long ago she had decided that if the game was unfair then she wouldn’t play. As she replayed Mark’s words in her mind she began to think that maybe the game wasn’t the problem. If each player had their own set of rules then she just needed to find someone who wanted to play the same way she did.

When service concluded they sat in silence as the people around them shuffled toward the exits. It was a comfortable silence that could have lasted far longer, but Mark turned and studied Sarah for a moment before asking, “You wanna go grab some lunch?”

She did not turn to look as she answered, as if shifting her gaze would break the train of thought that had not quite made it all the way to the station yet.

“Sure.”

“What are you hungry for?”

Sarah took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She turned and looked at Mark, wondering why she had never noticed the slices of green that ran through his blue-grey eyes. They were beautiful and kind.

“I suddenly have a craving for raspberries.”

Copyright © 2013 Adam Drake

Jenna grinned at the sight of him. He had an unassuming cuteness about him. When she had first seen him at their church she never would have pictured them together. He had shaggy brown hair, hazel eyes, and an average frame that could easily be lost in a crowd, but he was smart enough to know that those were not his strength.

The first time Sam had approached her it was simple and quick. He introduced himself and came off as shy. Each time they spoke after that he emerged from of his shell a little more. It did not take long for Jenna to see his heart and know that it was more beautiful than any other she knew. He had a rare combination of a sweet spirit and powerful intellect. Sam could make you feel like the most wonderful person in the world or like you didn’t exist. He knew the power of words and just how to use them.

Determined to not let his mood control the night, she went to greet him. He dropped his black apron onto the sofa and held out his arms for her. Jenna stood on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck and suddenly felt herself lifted off the floor.

Sam set her down and gave her a long deep kiss. When he finally let her go she fanned herself in mock excitement to give herself time to recover for real.

“Whoa… What brought that on?”

Sam had a silly grin on his face that grew wider.

“What? A guy can’t show his beautiful wife how much he misses her when he’s at work?”

Jenna cocked an eyebrow. Sam laughed and took her hand. He led her took the couch and sat down.

“I had an amazing day.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

Sam looked up as he thought back.

“The lunch rush was normal. Got stiffed on a few checks, but that’s nothing new. I don’t know why but I just got so angry. I thought about all the people I waited on each day and began to ask where all the good people have gone. It just seemed like everyone I met was out for themselves or rude or selfish.”

Jenna could see the frustration twist his face as he began to relive the emotions.

“Nobody stops to think of others anymore. I guarantee that not one single person I have waited on has ever thought about my bills or how their poor tip hinders my ability to provide for us.”

Sam took a deep breath and when he did all the angry melted away. He looked back into her eyes and smiled again.

“And then I got the best tip of my life.”

Jenna’s eyes grew big as she imagined a stranger leaving a hundred dollar bill on the table and walking out of the restaurant. She wanted to know more about who had given it.

“Were they all dressed up wearing a bunch of bling? Or was it like those rich people that walk around wearing plain t-shirts and jeans from Costco?”

Sam laughed and shook his head.

“Neither. He was wearing a Spider Man t-shirt.”

Jenna cocked her head to one side and waited for him to say “just kidding”, but he just sat there grinning.

“Ok… so weird people are good tippers I guess?”

“He wasn’t weird. He was four.”

Jenna swatted his arm as he raised his arms in defense while chuckling.

“Listen!” he said with his hands still up, ready to fend off another attack. “They came in about a hour before the normal dinner crowd and got sat in my section. I walked over to greet them and get their drink orders. The mom and dad sat on one side of the booth and he sat on the other with his head hung down. After getting their drink orders I knelt down to ask him what he wanted to drink and saw that he was crying.”

Jenna put her hands up to her mouth. She had a soft spot for children and hated to see them cry.

“I asked him what was wrong and his dad said that he was upset because of a misunderstanding. They had told him they were going somewhere special for dinner and he thought that they had meant Chuck E Cheese.”

A high-pitched “Awwwww” was all Jenna could say through her hands.

“I didn’t really have much else to do so I decided I was going to give the kid the best Chuck E Cheese experience I could. I had the cook’s make a smiley face out of the pepperoni on his pizza. I brought out some kids cups and used a spoon and saltshaker to make a little catapult game for him. And I grabbed Jules and Mike and made them come over and sing a silly song and do a dance for him. Even our manager got involved and comped them a free dessert!”

Jenna pulled her hands down just far enough to speak.

“Aw babe! That’s so sweet. So the parents hooked you up with a fat tip?”

“Nope. Not even 15%”

Her hands dropped in disbelief.

“What!? After all that? Babe…”

“It doesn’t matter. I got something better.”

He reached back to where he had tossed his apron and pulled out a small stack of yellow tickets.

“I was near the front when they were leaving so I waved and said ‘Have a nice night.’ The parents waived back, but the little boy ran up to me. He dug into his pocket and pulled these out. I guess he had brought them with him when he thought they were going to Chuck E Cheese so he could get a prize. He handed them to me with the biggest smile on his face.

I told him ‘I can’t take these. You keep them for the next time you go there.’ But he wouldn’t. He told me thank you and that he had the best time ever. He said he wanted me to have them. And then he smiled. I can still see it. It’s funny how one small act of kindness can be so much stronger than a thousand acts of indifference.”

Tears began to full Jenna’s eyes and she bit her lip as she tried to hold them back. Sam looked down at the tickets in his hand.

“This was everything he had. He gave it all to me. After that it didn’t matter what anyone else gave.”

Copyright © 2013 Adam Drake

Image courtesy of http://twilightorca.deviantart.com/

It looked like a normal letter from the middle school Max would be attending in the fall, but as I read a hollow rattle rolled through the page from the shaking of my hands. I dropped it on table, grabbed my keys and fled. This is my default action in the face of tragedy. I first learned this when I was about Max’s age.

We were driving to a cabin on the Lake of the Ozarks. An army of trees with shades of green that Crayola could never hope to box surrounded the road on both sides. Two yellow dotted lines marked the way to a perfect weekend. Just me, my dad, and a lake full of fish. I stared over the high dashboard looking for the sign that would mark our turnoff. This would begin our game of who can spot the water first.

A flash of movement was all I saw before the impact jerked me forward. My dad told me to stay, but I was so drawn to the front of our station wagon that I barely heard his words.

I had seen deer before, but never this close. Tears poured down my cheeks when I saw her lying there, struggling to breathe. Dad cursed and walked around to the back of the wagon. When he came back he had a small pistol in his hand.

“Get back in the car.”

For the second time that day I disobeyed my father. I still don’t know why, but I started running down the road from where we came. There was nowhere to go. We were miles from the last town we had passed through, but I could not stop. My legs pumped as hard as they could, trying to outrun the hurt that had suddenly flooded my heart. The sound of a single shot hit me like a wall and I fell to my knees sobbing.

As I drove that bang echoed again in my mind and my hands began to shake through their death grip on the steering wheel. Shame and fear turned my stomach into a knot that made it hard to breathe. I was supposed to be the strong one. I was supposed to have all the answers. I was supposed to make Max’s world safe. That’s what a good father does.

Max loved Harry Potter and I never quite understood his fascination with the books until that moment. How great would life be if you could whisper a magic word and watch your problems disappear. But that is not how the real world works. In this world it was my job to do that for him. As I drove I tried to think of good answers for the questions I knew my son would ask, but my mind would not let me escape the words that I had read.

…helping your child to understand this tragic event. The school will have grief counselors available for both parents and students…

A loud horn snapped my attention back to the road and I realized I had drifted into the lane to my left. My heart beat against my chest like an angry fist with only one wall in reach. No matter how hard I tried my mind would not stay focused on the road so I flipped on my blinker and pulled into the parking lot of a little strip mall. I pulled into an open space and turned off my car. I spotted a little coffee shop a few doors down and decided that sipping a hot beverage might be just the thing I needed to help release some of the pressure building inside me.

The bitter smell of coffee accosted me as soon as I opened the door. Even with the dark brown furniture and cream colored tile the shop was bright with all the natural light streaming in through the windows that filled the front.

I ordered the house blend and mixed in amounts of cream and sugar that would make a coffee aficionado cringe. There were only two others in the cafe and I chose a seat away from them. Stacks of used books filled a couple crates next to my seat. The gold lettering on the cover of one caught my eye and I picked it up.

The Bible felt heavy in my hands. I hoped that it was the weight of wisdom I felt and began flipping through the pages, glancing at the chapter headings as I went. When I read the heading “A Father Brings His Son To Jesus” I stopped and read. When I finished I had no greater insight into what to do or say with Max.

Frustrated, I looked around the cafe. Soon my eyes were locked onto the two others that sat there.

I watched them for what must have been half an hour, making no attempt to hide my attention. I couldn’t have looked away if I tried. The silver hair of the old man was all I could see over the top of the newspaper he held in front of him.

The boy sitting to his right bounced in the seat. His brown eyes were filled with curiosity as they searched the interior of the coffee shop. A book and an iPad were leaning on the leather armrest next to him, but they held no interest for him at the moment. I waited for the magic word that had captivated me twice before. I did not have to wait long.

“Grandpa?”

Immediately, but without hurry, the old man folded his newspaper and laid it on his lap. His blue-grey eyes focused on his grandson, showing him that he had his complete attention.

“Yes?”

“How do credit cards work?” the boy asked pointing to the register.

“On the back of each one is a small strip that the card reader reads when you pull it through.”

The grandpa did not lift his newspaper back up. Age must have taught him that there is rarely only one question in the mind of a child. Sitting quietly, as if in anticipation for the sun just before dawn, he waited for the next question to rise out of his grandson.

“So how does it know whose card it is?”

“Well the strip is actually a whole bunch of little pieces of iron embedded underneath plastic. Each piece can be magnetized with either a positive or a negative charge. You know how magnets have different charges right?” He paused to acknowledge a headshake before continuing. “So the order of the charges in all those little pieces acts like a code…”

I had no fear of being caught staring because the old man had devoted his full attention to the boy. He was gentle with each answer he supplied, careful to give knowledge without robbing him of the wonder that filled the boy’s world.

He was only a few years younger Max. These boys were getting to the age where life gets complicated. The lines of right and wrong had been blurred beyond recognition by a million voices shouting a million different messages. His friends at school were telling him one thing, T.V. another; advertisements, video games, music, they all had something to say. I felt like my voice was starting to get lost in all the rest and I had no idea how to fix it.

The Bible still sat open on my lap. When I looked back down the words jumped off the page.

So they brought the boy. But when the evil spirit saw Jesus, it threw the child into a violent convulsion, and he fell to the ground, writhing and foaming at the mouth.

“How long has this been happening?” Jesus asked the boy’s father.

He replied, “Since he was a little boy. The spirit often throws him into the fire or into water, trying to kill him. Have mercy on us and help us, if you can.”

“What do you mean, ‘If I can’?” Jesus asked. “Anything is possible if a person believes.”

The father instantly cried out, “I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief!”

When Jesus saw that the crowd of onlookers was growing, he rebuked the evil spirit. “Listen, you spirit that makes this boy unable to hear and speak,” he said. “I command you to come out of this child and never enter him again!”

Then the spirit screamed and threw the boy into another violent convulsion and left him. The boy appeared to be dead. A murmur ran through the crowd as people said, “He’s dead.” But Jesus took him by the hand and helped him to his feet, and he stood up.

I knew exactly how that father felt. My mind jumped back to the letter. Why would a twelve-year-old child commit suicide? And how do I make sure that Max will never do the same? It seemed like the plague of suicide was sweeping through our country. We had a whole generation of kids throwing themselves into the fire. The thought of Max being one of them terrified me.

The words I had just read shouted louder than all the rest in my mind.

“Listen, you spirit that makes this boy unable to hear and speak…”

A flash of truth revealed something that had been hidden in the darkness of my understanding. The father saw the problem as the seizures, but Jesus didn’t say anything about those. He saw the root of the problem was something else.

This single idea was like a pebble that started an avalanche of thoughts. Maybe we had been looking at it all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t only about bullying or depression. How many suicides were rooted in a loss of communication? Teens who felt like no one was listening to them… Their voices felt lost in all the noise that fought for attention. If they were bullied or struggled with a deep insecurity and couldn’t share that…

I looked back up and saw that the boy had found his way into his grandpa’s lap. A smile suddenly spread across my lips at the wisdom of the old man. That boy would never be ignored as long as they were together. He had found his magic word. It was “Grandpa”.

I imagined that brown-eyed boy years down the road. With all the voices of the world screaming out for his attention, who would he listen to? The answer seemed so simple now. The one who had listened to him.

After closing the Bible and returning it to the stack I walked over to the old man and told him thank you. He never asked why. Maybe he knew it didn’t matter. He just smiled and gave me a nod.

As I left I heard the boy ask, “Who was that grandpa?”

I didn’t have to turn to know that he would give the boy his full attention when he answered.

On the way home I thought about how stupid I had been with Max. I assumed that I needed to shout louder to be heard. Turns out I needed to be quiet. Max could actually have his own magic word and I was determined to make sure that it would be “Dad”.

Copyright © 2013 Adam Drake

Author’s Note: This story was inspired by the chapter “He Expressed Himself” in Laurie Beth Jone’s amazing book Jesus, CEO. There is great wisdom in it.

First, I can’t even begin to tell you all how honored and privileged I am that you would take the time to read my words each week. You guys have provided me with so much encouragement and feedback. I owe so much of my growth as a writer to you all and “thank you” does not begin to cover how much I appreciate you.

Secondly, as many of you noticed, I did not post a story last week. I was in the middle of moving across the country. This may happen a bit more in the future (the missing a week, not the moving) as I focus on some lengthier writing projects. The purpose of my move was so that I can dedicate some time to publish a book of short stories and write a novel. I will be documenting my journey of these new endeavors on my brand new author site byAdamDrake.com  If you would like see a more personal side of me and follow my progress as an author, please check it out and follow me there as well. (It’s still through WordPress too)

I am working on a story for this week, so hopefully that will get me back into the routine.

Thank you all again. I do not know if I would have had the courage to attempt what I am about to do without all your encouragement. Don’t ever forget the power of your words to one trying to change the world with them.

All My Love,

Adam

“The beating I put on you last week got you shaking in your loafers now?”

There it was. Walter smiled and continued to place the chess pieces on the stone table that rose between the benches where they sat. Even with the silver canopy of clouds filtering the morning light each marble piece seemed to shine brightly. The pair of old friends began to set their pieces in a practiced rhythm, each click creating a beat to a song that only they could play.

The air crackled as another breeze kicked up a pile of dried leaves. Walter scanned the park. The city brimmed with life just outside its borders, but they were alone in the acres of trees and walkways with the exception of a man jogging around the pond that sat like a blue jewel in the park’s center. He was talking to a wire that hung from his left ear.

Frank picked up a pawn and tapped in down in a different square to start the game. Like a small starter’s pistol, the sound set off the beginning of their conversation. Walter enjoyed this game more than the one spread before them.

“What do you think about all this?” Walter asked jabbing a thumb toward the chain link fence that was being erected and encircled nearly half the park. A green plastic tarp was being secured to the sections of fence that had already been set in place.

The announcement had been on the front page of the newspaper that morning. City officials had commissioned some local artist to… Well they were not quite sure what he was going to do, but he needed absolute privacy to do it. The park would be closed for the next six weeks while he worked. It was all part of some downtown beautification initiative.

A low grunt of disgust was Frank’s initial answer. The frown he usually wore turned to a scowl, which deepened the sagging skin around his mouth. This new look turned the calm sea of skin covering his head into wave after wave of angry wrinkles that spread out across his forehead and crashed into the levies of his bushy grey eyebrows. His blue eyes stayed hidden beneath the safety of those eyebrows most days and only appeared when Frank was surprised or laughed.

Walter waited patiently knowing Frank would share more when he felt like it. He slid a pawn forward to prepare building a defense against Frank’s future onslaught.

“Modern art is a joke. These yahoos can’t paint. Can’t sculpt. They just throw a bunch of garbage together, call it art, and cash their check so they can buy fruity drinks and wear girl pants.”

This brief discourse on modern art made Walter chuckle. He watched Frank’s fingers twitch as he contemplated which strategy he wanted to employ. They stilled for a split second before plucking up a bishop and smashing it down in its new home.

Walter rubbed his chin as he studied the board and thought about his next move in their game of words. He reached for a knight and watched for the tiniest reaction from Frank, but his face was as unchanging as the stone upon which they played. Walter smiled at himself for such a foolish ploy as his hand glided to a different pawn and slid it forward two places.

“Ya never know. Maybe he will create a masterpiece that will be looked upon for generations.”

It was not quite a statement and not quite a question. Frank huffed again and clapped his queen down across the board without hesitation. Walter waited for more, but that was they last his grumpy friend chose to say on the subject.

The game play slowed as pieces began to spread across the board. Walter kept the conversation going, providing most of the dialogue. As pieces began to disappear the balance of power became clear. Frank had nearly double the number of pieces spectating as Walter.

Warm sunlight finally fell on the men as the clouds began to pull apart like cotton candy in the hands of child. Frank removed his coat and laid it beside him. Walter sensed a rare victory coming as their game progressed and took each piece with a growing sense of excitement.

Frank accepted the capture of each of his pieces with stoic resignation. All conversation stopped as the game neared its end. Walter saw that his victory was only three moves away and forced a smile to stay hidden for just a while longer. Frank’s fingers grabbed his remaining rook and for the first time all day gently placed it in the center of a black square. The silence only lasted for a second.

“Checkmate.”

Walter stared in disbelief. He worked through the progression of his pieces and found no moves left to save him. His smile needed no help hiding this time.

“Frank! You sly fox. How did you do that?”

Frank stood and tossed his coat over his arm before replying. His voice grated like sandpaper.

“You’re like everyone else Walter. You’re too busy looking at the obvious to notice what’s most important.”

Frank made a sound that was probably his version of a laugh before strolling away with a slow burdened shuffle.

Walter called out after him.

“See you in six weeks?”

Frank raised his coat covered arm and gave a little waive.

Walter looked at the board once more. He still could not figure out where he had gone wrong. Minutes passed before he shook his head and began to collect the pieces.

­­­­­­­_______

Spring had risen to its full glory on the morning that Walter made his way to the park carrying his chess set in it’s walnut case. Birds hopped from branch to branch filling the air with Sleeping Beauty’s song. Flowers bloomed and mixed with the scent of coffee that permeated downtown.

Walter was amazed at the myriad of activities taking place throughout the park as he neared the entrance. The chain link fence that had surrounded the grounds for the past six weeks was now gone. Families sat on blankets eating while a man combed through the grass with a metal detector. Some boys tossed a red Frisbee near the pond. Not too far away an older woman with a camera was taking pictures of tree. Couples strolled along the walkways that spread out like a web stopping at random to look at the flowers that had begun to blossom.

A small crowd gathered around something a few steps from the entrance into the park. Walter assumed that it was the new piece of art and strolled over to have a look. He slid into an opening vacated by two teenagers holding hands completing the half circle of curious people.

A flat bronze plaque, the size of a coffee table, lay imbedded in a square of cement. Small gasps marked the moment each person finished reading the words engraved on it.

This park holds a masterpiece.

Whoever finds it, may keep it forever.

Walter smiled. This was just the kind of thing Frank would hate. Win or lose, at least he would enjoy an interesting conversation during today’s game.

When Walter arrived at the table he found Frank already sitting on his bench staring at the people that dotted the park like a Jackson Pollock painting. After sitting down he placed the wooden case on the table and began to pull out the pieces. Frank continued to stare at the people around them.

Walter assumed Frank would return his attention to the table once all of the pieces were set out, but the soft click of the case being closed did nothing to pull his eyes from what held them. Because Frank had used the white pieces the last time they played, giving him the first move, Walter began ordering the tiny white warriors in their proper places along his side of the board. He finished quickly and began setting the black pieces as he waited for Frank to return from wherever his thoughts had taken him.

Though his pawn made no sound as Walter slid it forward, Frank suddenly turned and began to study the board. His fingers performed an aerial ballet while he pondered his first move. Walter was eager to know his friend’s thoughts and did not wait for Frank to move before asking, “So… what do you think of the new ‘art’?”

Frank’s fingers danced over to the knight and plucked it off the board. He spoke before setting it down on the chosen square.

“Love it.”

He plopped the rook down and turned to once more to the people crawling over the park.

“You can’t be serious… It’s a joke!”

Frank turned back to look at Walter. His soft blue eyes were barely visible behind the now built in squint and bushy eyebrows.

“It’s the silliest thing I’ve seen in a world that grows sillier by the day.” Walter continued. “What’s the point of creating a beautiful work of art and then hiding it so no one can see it? And even if someone finds it, then they’re gonna take it and still no one would see it. It’s asinine.”

Walter picked up another pawn and moved it forward. He secretly wondered if Frank had said that just to mess with him, but shook off the idea as soon as he remembered that Frank didn’t have a sense of humor.

Instead of his usual finger twitch, Frank folded his hands in his lap. His sigh had a note of sadness in it. He turned to look at the people again.

“What do you see when you look out there?”

Walter followed Frank’s gaze. People milled about. Some were clearly searching for something, while others simply enjoyed a small escape from city life.

“I see people searching for something that isn’t there. I see sheep. And somewhere a wolf is watching and laughing at them.”

Frank shook his head.

“You never learn Walt. Still looking at the obvious and missing the most important things.”

Walter should have been angry, but he wasn’t. His curiosity trumped every other emotion that tried to rise in him.

“What am I missing Frank? Tell me.”

Frank looked at his friend once more. His eyebrows lifted revealing the fullness of what had been hidden for so long. Walter saw no malice in his eyes, just two pools of joy that slowly spread down to the corners of his mouth.

“I believe you are correct when you say that the artist did not create a work of art, but that does not mean that a masterpiece is not present. Some people may search in vain, but not all. Those who find it will be able to keep it forever without hindering anyone else from the same opportunity. The masterpiece has been here all along in the way the wind weaves through the grass. It is the way a child’s laughs tickles the heart. It is in each tree, flower, and wrinkle of water. The artist did something truly special. Which is harder to do, create something new for people to label beautiful or help them see the beauty that has been there all along?”

Copyright © 2013 Adam Drake

“I hate being little!”

Andy’s father plopped down next to him and thought about what to say while resisting the urge to rub the wavy locks of blonde hair that seemed to always look perfect no matter how messy his clothes were at the end of the day.

“I think I’m supposed to tell you how great being six years old is, but to be honest I bet it kind of sucks sometimes.”

Andy’s head shot up to look into his father’s before delivering a very serious reprimand.

“Mom says that’s a bad word.”

“Oh… yes. I’m sorry. I meant stinks.”

Andy’s eyes dropped again as he rested his chin on his knee.

“It’s not fair. They said I’m too short to ride the rides. I never get to do anything fun.”

His dad nearly reminded him that he was wearing a t-shirt from the Mets game they had gone to last week, but if his son saw the smirk that clung to his face he would become more upset. When the smile finally released its grip he started plucking blades of grass, thinking about what to say.

“I know that right now all you can think about are the things you don’t get to do yet, but I bet you didn’t know that six is a very special age.”

Six years with his dad had taught Andy that this was probably a trick, but he just had to know why. He waited as long as he could before asking. The silence lasted about ten seconds, but for a six year-old that’s as close to eternity as it gets.

“Why?”

His father leaned in and began to whisper.

“When you get older you will have your whole life to do all of the things you want to do so badly right now. You will have years and years to ride rollercoasters, drive, eat ice cream for dinner, and stay up as late as you want. But you lose some of the best things about being a kid when you grow up.”

Andy was hooked the second her heard “ice cream for dinner”. He lifted his head and stared into the green eyes that matched his own, only bigger. The world was still filled with so many mysteries. It was rare for adults to share their secrets, and he wanted to know them all.

“What? What will I lose?” he asked in a pouty whisper.

“Well… You won’t get to go trick-or-treating any more. And… Adults don’t get recess. But the biggest thing you will lose is the freedom to make a lot of mistakes. Right now you’re learning and exploring new things so when you mess up it’s not such a big deal. You don’t get that very often once you’re grown. When I mess up I can get in big trouble.”

Andy didn’t know what to do with this information. He desperately wanted to know how much longer he had to trick-or-treat, but also could not believe that the one who swatted his bottom when he made bad choices could get in trouble too. Fearing the answer to the first question he decided to ask about the second.

“You get in trouble?

His dad’s smirk returned in an instant.

“Sometimes. I try not to, but when an adult makes a mistake there are consequences. If I drive too fast the policeman can give me a ticket and make me pay. Or if I make a mistake with mom, sometimes she gives daddy a special kind of timeout that he does not like very much.”

Andy forgot to whisper at this shocking revelation, “Mom puts you in timeout too!?”

Andy’s father began laughing and before he knew it, was lying on his back clutching his aching stomach. An adult’s laugh is an open invitation to join for any child and soon Andy had flopped on his dad’s chest squealing with delight. After a few false stops Andy’s dad gathered enough composure to look at the face only inches away and answer his question.

“Sometimes buddy. But only when I deserve it. What you will learn as you get older is that life has a lot of give and take. Someday you’ll get a chance to have all the things you want so badly right now, but you will have to give some things up to get them. You may get to go to Disneyland, but you might have to mow some lawns on your Saturdays to pay for it.”

Andy pushed himself up and put on his serious face.

“I will mow the lawn if you take me to Disneyland!”

“I’m sure you would buddy. That’s an easy choice. They won’t always be like that though. Sometimes there will things that you want so bad, but they are not worth what they cost. It’s my job to teach you how to choose. You need to learn the value of things like family, honesty, kindness, friendship, hard work, and even things that that people think they know the value of, like money and popularity. That way when you are old enough and the time comes for you to decide what to give up and what to keep, you will make good decisions, decisions that will make you happy for a very long time.”

Andy thought about everything his dad told him. It seemed pretty simple.

“I think if we had ice cream for dinner I would be happy for a long time.”

This set off another round of laughing that quickly turned into a tickle war. Andy was no match for his dad, but he did not mind losing so much. The war only lasted a few moments before a voice called from the back porch causing an immediate cease-fire.

“What is going on back here?”

Both boys turned and looked to see Andy’s mother leaning against the frame of the back door with her arms crossed. The silence of being caught with a hand in the cookie jar hung in the air.

“Honey? I thought you were going to mow the yard?”

Andy’s dad sat up.

“I was just about to. We were just discussing… dinner options.”

The tone of her “Mmm hmmmm” made it clear that she was not buying it.

She stood up straight and let her arms fall before saying, “Andy, come inside now so your dad doesn’t have anyone to play with when he should be working.”

With a wink and a smile, Andy’s dad nodded for him to go. He stood up and headed to the garage while his son raced to his mother.

Just before the clap of the back door closing he heard his son’s still excited voice ask, “Mom? Are you gonna put dad in time out?”

Suddenly he started wondering the same thing.

Copyright © 2013 Adam Drake

But it was not what she could say to me that chilled my soul, it was what she could read. I felt naked when her gaze held mine.

When I met her I spelled my name slowly. S. A. M. It was one of the few things I remembered from my childhood neighbor Jackson. He was deaf too. And like her, he could read lips.

She nodded and spelled her name to me. I caught the “S” because I had one in my name, but the rest was lost on me. Luckily her friend was there to tell me her name was Allison. She spent a few moments with us translating for Allison, but her sideways glances made it clear that she was more interested in the guy with the tight jeans and big muscles.

That was the first time I saw how much one look could say. A little half-smile and nod and her friend was off to try and win her prize. It wasn’t just that the look said, “Go ahead. You can leave.” Somehow it said, “You have my permission to leave. We will be good. I have done this before and we can speak without you.”

I caught all of it. I stood shocked by two things. The first was that I knew her intent. That’s so much different than knowing what she said. It’s deeper. All the different ways of saying something were stripped away. I did not have to guess if she meant what she said because she did not say anything. She simply showed what she thought, what she felt.

The second thing that shocked me was that feeling of “we”. It seemed more important somehow than a normal “we”. This was no superficial “we”. I had just met her, but her eyes told me she felt safe with me. This would have been nice under normal circumstances, but at the moment it scared the hell out of.

Before the look that sent her friend scurrying, she stared into my eyes. Social etiquette would say that you can only do this for so long before it gets awkward and then you must look away. I did not want to look away, but I am always sensitive to being perceived as creepy. As she looked at me, and I at her, I watched for the signs that would tell me it was time to look away, but they never came. Her eyes invited me to stay there in that moment.

Now I don’t recall my eyes inviting her in, but apparently she just felt like she could just hop in my soul and have a look around. After a surprisingly quick search, she felt that I was safe. Next thing you know, poof, her friend’s gone and I am looking at the only person in the world who can read me like a book.

That’s when I knew I had to kill her.

Just kidding. It scared me though. She must of known this too because she just smiled, winked, and nodded for me to follow her. She led me out side where we sat on the porch swing and stared at the stars. Our hands slid together perfectly. It was like finding the place that puzzle piece was made to fit after trying every other place. I couldn’t see the whole picture yet, but I knew it would be beautiful.

Copyright © 2013 Adam Drake