The other day, or a month ago by the time this is published, I got the urge to work on one of my story starts. I dug through my file until I found it, created a new project, and went to start writing, only to realize it wasn't actually the one I was looking for. Sure enough, there was another start in my file that was based on the same premise, but went in a different direction. I grabbed both, figuring I would merge them into a single story.
As I wrote the first draft, I picked and chose from both story ideas, which I thought resulted in a better story than either of the original ideas would have been on their own. I also realized that what I had discarded was enough for a second story, that I also thought would be better than either original idea.
So, I put the first story aside and wrote a draft of that second story.
Then, I did something I normally try to avoid: I focused on two stories at the same time. My editing was not just about making each story the best I could, but also keeping them as different as possible while building on the same premise. Editing in parallel allowed me to swap bits between the stories to ensure they were both unique and the best they could be.
Keeping with this parallel creation process, they both contain this same preface, and I have asked that they be published on the same day.
I hope that you like both "Waved Off" and "Old-Fashioned" but I'm curious which one you will like better.
* * * * * | * * * * * | * * * * *
I looked up at the sound of the shop door. It was past closing time, but the regulars knew they were welcome any time the side door was unlocked. However, the young guy who walked in wasn't a regular. In fact, I'd never seen him before. I didn't worry though, as folks would sometimes send a desperate traveler my way, when all the other auto shops in town were closed.
I paused when I caught sight of the four-pack of bottles he was carrying. They told me he probably wasn't there about a car, but I had no clue why else he would be there.
Curiosity got the best of me, so I wiped my hands and headed over to meet him. He spoke as I approached.
"Ethan Walker?"
"That would be me."
"You're a hard man to find."
I shrugged. It was still Darren's name on the front of the building, but I wasn't exactly hiding from anybody.
"Once I found somebody who knew where to find you, I had to wonder if they were just messing with me, what with the wild goose chase they sent me on."
"Well, you're here, so the directions couldn't have been that bad."
"No, they were straightforward. However, when I asked about your beer of choice," he said while waving the bottles around, "they failed to mention that Flying Cauldron Butterscotch Beer is not actually beer, but cream soda. I was scouring my fourth liquor store when another customer overheard and set me straight. Apparently, it's pretty popular at kids' wizard-themed birthday parties."
I just smiled, as that was exactly where I had first tasted the brew.
"Since you went to so much effort to buy me a drink, why don't we move into the break room where we'll be more comfortable. Then you can tell me your name, and why you went to all of that effort."
* * * * *
He managed to get out, "My name is Isaac," before he lost his nerve and focused on the bottle in his hand.
"This isn't too bad. I've never had cream soda before.
"Is this really all you drink?"
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Actually, I only drink it on special occasions, but I don't drink real beer anymore."
He got a curious look on his face as I couldn't help but get a little misty-eyed at the memories it dredged up. Looking off into the distance, I explained.
"I lost my best friend to a drunk driver, because Darren had to come pick my drunk ass up from a bar after the divorce. He left behind a wife and daughter." I paused, staring through my bottle and into the past.
"They never blamed me, but I still blamed myself. I've had no desire for alcohol since that night."
Silence reigned for a bit, as neither of us knew what to say from there. Finally, he screwed up his courage and rushed through why he was there.
"Sir, I've been dating your daughter for a while now and I want to marry her. Call me old-fashioned, but I'm asking for your permission."
That was pretty much the last thing I was expecting, and it took me a moment to recover. He just watched me with a hopeful look on his face.
I slowly shook my head as I responded. "You don't need my permission, and even if you did, I'm no longer in a position to give it."
He frowned and started to speak several times before he settled on what he wanted to say.
"I know you're not involved in her life, but you're still her father. If not permission, would you at least give me your blessing to ask her?"
I stared at him. He seemed like a good man, which made what I was about to say both easy and hard.
"No."
He stopped, clearly not expecting that answer.
"You still hate her that much?"
This time, I was the one shocked by what was said. I felt a flash of anger, then just overwhelming sadness.
"I have never hated my daughter. I have loved her since the pregnancy test came back positive, and I will continue to love her until the day I die.
"I pray every day that she will forgive me and let me back into her life."
I glared at him, daring him to argue with me.
He paused, caught off guard once again, or maybe a bit intimidated by the look I was giving him. Determined, he tried another approach.
"I know you don't know me, but I swear I would never hurt your daughter. Will you at least give me a chance to prove myself?"
I sighed. For the first time in years, I found myself wishing the beer in my hand was real. I had moved on with my life, finding my purpose in keeping Darren's legacy going, but the wounds inflicted by my wife and daughter were still there, scabbed over but not healed.
"It's not you, Isaac. It's her.
"The fact you felt it necessary to track me down and ask my permission tells me you're a lot like me, but she's too much like her mother."
I took a moment and drained my first bottle. It wasn't exactly liquid courage, but it was the closest thing I had. I opened a second bottle, mainly so I'd have something in my hand.
"It hurt when I found out that my wife had been fucking my boss, often while I had to cover for him at work. But that was nothing compared to when my eighteen-year-old daughter informed me that she would never speak to me again, unless I stopped the divorce and welcomed her mother's lover into our home. I thought she was just lashing out, but I was wrong, and she hasn't spoken to me since."
I stared at the bottle in my hands, not wanting him to see the pain in my eyes.
"She made her views on infidelity very clear, so I can't give my blessing for her to marry anybody. You have no idea how much it hurts me to say that, and I'm truly sorry."
I did feel sorry for the man in front of me, as he looked like he had lost his best friend. I knew that feeling, only multiplied by twenty years of marriage.
"I'm not saying you can't marry her, as you have to make your own decisions. I just can't condone it."
We both had tears in our eyes as he shook my hand and thanked me for sharing my story. His shoulders were slumped as he stumbled out the door.
* * * * *
I looked up when I heard the shop door, wondering what brought one of the girls into my domain. I was not prepared for who it was, and I froze in shock.
"Daddy?"
It was a voice I hadn't heard in many years. Not just because she hadn't spoken to me in years, but because it was a voice from much farther back, back when she was still a little girl who loved her daddy more than anything else in the world. It was not the strong and confident voice of the angry teenager who turned her back on me.
After my talk with Isaac, I thought she might storm in one day breathing fire, but I certainly didn't expect her to come in looking so sad and vulnerable. It was the tear running down her cheek that finally broke me out of my daze.
"Pumpkin?" It came out as little more than a whisper, as tears threatened to spill down my cheeks as well.
Still, it was enough. Her face lit up and she screamed, "Daddy!" as she ran across the shop, smashing into me and clinging to me with a fierce hug. The grease on my hands was forgotten as I wrapped her in a crushing hug of my own. No more words were said, as we simply held each other and cried in happiness.
When I came back to my senses and looked up, Wynona and Merissa were standing there watching us. I'm pretty sure they were both crying as well. I nodded at them, letting them know I was okay, and they disappeared back into the office. I led Rachel to the break room and went to scrub my hands. It was too late for her blouse, but I don't think she cared.
* * * * *
