Bringing Characters to Life – Class Blog

To say Lucas was Ben’s friend required some stretching of the imagination. They had been at high school, together, and later college, not that they had much interaction at either. If anything, Lucas played the nerd to Ben’s jock. But for some reason, Ben had always taken a shine to Lucas, and Lucas could never figure out why. At school, Ben was on the football team and the swim team. Lucas played some tennis and was on the chess team. Ben was a merciless bully, terrorizing vulnerable kids, not so much to hurt them, as to demean and embarrass them, and unfortunately did a good job of it.

Lucas, on the other hand, was very much a “live-and-let-live” kind of person. For some reason, Ben had never bullied Lucas or “Little Lukey” as Ben called him to Lucas’s annoyance. Lucas would answer Ben’s curricular related questions with more than a little hint of sarcasm. Their paths crossed a few times during college when they both attended the same state university, Ben on an athletic scholarship and Lucas majoring in English Literature.

They were both only a year out of college when Lucas was surprised to get an IM from Ben, suggesting they meet for a beer. “Like we used to in the old days,” Ben had written. Lucas knew there had almost certainly been occasions in their college days when they both could have been drinking in the same bar at the same time – but with totally different sets of friends and without interacting, or even acknowledging each other.

Sitting at the bar in Dan’s Place, the two of them reminisced over a pitcher about school days and college days. They exchanged updates on the status of the few friends they had in common, laughed at some of the quirks of a few of the teaching staff and faculty, and brought each other up to date with their own lives. Ben had joined the athletic department of a high school, and Lucas was writing for a regional daily newspaper. After all the back-slapping greetings, jokes, pleasantries, and life updates, Lucas decided to share what was on his mind.

“Ben, you and I are very different, you have always treated me as a friend, and I really appreciate that. But I’ve got to ask you why. We are so different in so many ways.” “Let me tell you,” replied Ben. “When we were both high school freshmen, you changed my life.” “Changed your life! That sounds great, but when, and how, and from what to what? You were a sports jock, and I was an English nerd, whatever could we have had, or even still have in common. Other than a handful of shared life experiences?”

“We started high school at the same time, “ Said Ben. “I came from a family where winning at sports was a single, primary goal in life. Everything else was secondary at best, and anyone standing in the way or even not appreciating effort was dismissed and literally kicked aside. That was the attitude I had starting school. In the first week, I was on the student body website when I came across a poem posted on the English Blog, a poem called ‘The Unheard Voice.’ Do you remember it? You should, you wrote it. It opened my eyes to a whole new dimension of my life and a whole new list of possibilities. From then on, I would open that blog every day, looking for your postings. There were lots of them, poems, short stories, thoughts. I printed all of them and still have them to this day.”

Lucas was stunned. “Ben, I never knew you read my blog. I would never in a million years think of it as something that would interest you. What can I say? I am amazed, pleased, but amazed. “ “Well, I am pleased to,” said Ben. “But you shouldn’t be so amazed. What you wrote helped change my life for the better. Thank you so much, Little Lukey, my friend.”

Andrew had been under considerable pressure at work, but in many ways, the pressure was good. His company, Cronin Construction Services, had seen a quantum leap in its revenues from the many communities with infrastructure construction projects related to water and sewerage services. Andrew was in sales and pulling in some good money from his commissions. The downside was he could be called away at a moment’s notice to meet with new or existing clients, either making a presentation or helping with the installation and efficient running of Cronin’s water/sewer planning and design software.

Late one Friday evening, around 9:30, Andrew returned home from an unplanned and unscheduled trip to service a significant client on the west coast. He looked forward to spending the weekend with his wife and two young children, especially as he would be off work the following Monday, giving him an unexpected three day weekend. Andrew left home  Monday morning, telling Melanie, his wife, that he would probably be gone until the following Sunday evening. He was pleased to find he could fix his client’s issues more easily and quickly than his original estimate. In his rush to LAX for a seat on the midday flight, he didn’t get to call Melanie ahead about his arrival home two days earlier than anticipated.

Andrew pulled into his driveway, noticing Melanie’s car was not in the garage. “That’s odd, where would she be at this time of night. I wonder if she has the kids with her.” Stephanie, the sitter, was in the den watching TV. “Hello, Mr. Young,” said Stephanie. “Mrs. Young said you wouldn’t be home until Sunday night.” “I got everything wrapped up a lot faster than I thought. Where are the kids?”  Stephanie told him they were both in bed. “O.K., so where is Mrs. Young?” asked Andrew. “She went to visit a friend and said she wouldn’t be back until Sunday morning,” Stephanie told him. “Did Melanie say which friend?” asked Andrew. “No, she just said it was an old friend she wanted to hook up with. She said she would pay me to watch the kids until she returned.”

Andrew went to the bedroom to unpack and change into something more comfortable, thinking about Melanie’s unexpected trip. It brought to mind some other, slightly odd occurrences of late, like the phone ringing and no one speaking when he answered it. Flowers unexpectedly delivered, which Melanie claimed she had ordered. Why would she order flowers to be delivered? Oddest of all was Melanie’s attitude towards Andrew of late. It wasn’t exactly cold but seemed remote and uninterested.

Having changed into sweats and a T-shirt and putting up all his travel gear, Andrew opened the draw of Melanie’s nightstand with some apprehension. His fear was confirmed. Melanie’s contraceptive diaphragm was missing from its usual spot. Walking back to the den, Andrew heard the phone ring. He let Stephanie answer it.

“Hi, Mrs. Young. Yes, they’re both in bed, yes, they ate their supper and watched TV until 7:30 and then went to bed without any fuss. No, he didn’t call, better than that he came home about half an hour ago – yes, I’ll put him on.” The conversation did not go well. Andrew led with Melanie’s unexpected absence and the missing diaphragm. Melanie finally confessed that she was seeing an old friend from way back, a friend she had known longer than Andrew. Yes, she was having an affair, she was tired of Andrew, his tedious job that kept him gone all the time, his lack of appreciation for her artistic talents. She planned to take the kids and leave him. “If you had come home on Sunday when you said he would, you would have found the kids and me already gone.” Melanie was adamant; she was moving in with Jack.

The conversation carried on in a perpetual circular fashion for almost an hour until Andrew finally hung up. Melanie found him dull and complained about his work but didn’t seem to have an issue with spending her way through the money he made. Her current model Audi, her extensive wardrobe of high fashion clothing, the costly painting she bought, a David Hockney for heaven’s sake – the list goes on. As fast as he could earn commissions, the faster Melanie went through the money. After Andrew paid the mortgage and all the household bills each month, there was barely enough left over for groceries and other living expenses.

Faced with the reality of where his life was leading, Andrew was anxious to get himself, and the children into a more stable situation where he could begin to deal with the fallout from a breaking marriage. He paid Stephanie through Sunday as she had been promised and sent her home. Andrew packed bags for himself and the children and one full of as many of Melanie’s designer clothes and jewelry as the bag would hold. He loaded the bags, and the David Hockney painting into the van Melanie used for school runs. He logged on to his bank and transferred the $100,000 of their joint savings account into his own, individual savings account.

Last of all, he carried two sleepy children and made them comfortable in sleeping bags in the back of the van. “Where are we going, Daddy?” his daughter asked. “We’re going to Grandad and Grandma’s house to stay for a while,” Andrew told her. “Oh goody!” she said and snuggled into the sleeping bag. Andrew pulled out of the driveway to begin the five-plus hours’ journey north to his parents’ house. “We’ll just see how this grabs her,” thought Andrew. “Sunday, she’ll come home to no kids, no money, no expensive clothes, and no damned David Hockney bloody painting. Let’s see how that plays out.”

“Rosemary, so sweet, so innocent, so beautiful.” These words repeatedly played through Stephen’s head, again, and again, and again. Surely she must see through Toby by now. Toby, so callous, so selfish, such a misogynist. I can hardly stand him anymore since he mistreats my lovely Rosemary time after time, day after day. I must save her. Toby is my friend, but in this, he is my enemy. With Rosemary, he is my adversary. I cannot let him win and keep poor Rosemary.

I met Toby and Rosemary at the bar for my birthday. It was celebrated several times today – by family at home – by friends and colleagues at the office. But now with two special friends, one I liked and the other I loved. Because I loved one, I no longer wanted the other. In they walked, and Toby shook my hand and patted my back. Rosemary hugged me and kissed my cheek. I hugged her back and smelled the sweet perfume of her blonde, curly hair, and never wanted to let her go. “Rosemary, Rosemary, come away with me and leave behind this sly and devious man who wants only your subservience, to dominate you. With me lies freedom. With me lies true love.” One day soon, I will speak these words to Rosemary. One day soon, I will no longer hide this burning, burning love.

After dinner, Tim sat at the crowded bar overlooking the Huangpu River in Shanghai. The three-week-long visit to China was almost at an end, and tomorrow he would fly home to San Francisco. “M on the Bund is so cool,” said Tim to the bartender, “Maybe its no longer the trendiest of bars in Shanghai,” the bartender told Tim.  “But it’s been here so long, and it’s still my favorite – I just love that view!” A barge towing a large, illuminated sign advertising soft drinks moved slowly upstream against the backdrop of the myriad of constantly changing ornamental lights covering the towering buildings of the Pudong skyline on the opposite river bank. “Anyway, I would like to have an old fashion with Bulleit Bourbon, do you have Bulleit?” asked Tim. “We certainly do, one old fashion with Bulleit coming up.”

As Tim savored his cocktail and continued to soak in the spectacular night time view, a stranger approached the empty seat next to him, one of the few empty places at the bar. “Anyone sitting here, squire?” asked the stranger.  “Go ahead,” said Tim, “it’s open.” The stranger took the seat and ordered a rusty nail. “Cheers!” said the stranger to Tim and sipped his cocktail. “I’m Simon, by the way.” “Tim,” replied Tim. “Lovely place, M on the Bund. Love it, come here every trip. Thinking this time, I need to bring the boys here.” “The boys? You talking about your kids?” asked Tim. “Nah, not kids. I don’t have no kids. I mean ‘the boys’ – you know – Mick, Keith, Charlie, and Ronnie – you know who I mean, right?” “You talking about the Stones?” said Tim “The Rolling Stones if you don’t mind. Not just any old stones,” said Simon laughing. “You work for them?” asked Tim. “I’m their tour manager for the China gigs they’ll do in a couple of months.” “Wow! That’s cool,” said Tim. “Your accent sounds British?” “British through and through mate. London born and bred. Me and the boys go way back. Been with ‘em since 1990 and the Steel Wheels tour. Look after them, I do, and they know it. Best thing, it gets me free drinks all over the world.”

Tim and Simon ordered more cocktails and chatted. “So, Tim, what brings you to Shanghai?” “I’m an attorney. I represent a consortium of US companies doing business with China. I’ve been here to help close on some deals we have been chasing for over a year.” Tim expanded on some of his corporate law ventures while Simon embellished his Rolling Stones stories with intimate accounts of the private words and deeds of Mick and the boys. Simon was apparently on an advance trip for the band’s concerts scheduled for a couple of months in the future. “It’s almost 11,” said Tim. “I need to head back to my hotel. I’ve got a flight back to the states tomorrow morning.” “Hold on a minute, mate. Can you hold my place while I go to the bathroom? I’ll be right back.” As an afterthought, he took a card from his wallet and placed it on the bar. Have the bartender put all our drinks on that – this one’s on Mick and the boys!”

After 15 minutes, Simon still hadn’t returned. Tim slid Simon’s credit card a little closer for safety as the late-night bar crowd continued to gather. He idly turned it over – and saw – it was a hotel room key, for the Hyatt on the Bund. “Rolling Stones, my ass! What a phony” thought Tim. “I better be getting out of here and back to the Westin. My wife will be pitching a fit as she’s done all the packing. Its been a great trip to China, but I’m tired of being a tourist, and I’m ready to go home and back to my day job at CALTRANS.

The November Monday morning sky was overcast and threatened rain, a few degrees colder, and it would be threatening snow. Molly Roberts turned right out of the front door of her apartment building, heading towards the corner coffee shop. She took her latte and cranberry muffin to an open table in one corner. She pulled out her phone to start catching up with her emails and review her schedule for the day, it was a crowded one. As a Manhattan realtor, her working week was always busy – this week, while busier than most, did offer the promise of some significant closings.

Molly was staring into space while mentally reviewing her schedule. A possibly middle-aged woman had joined the line in front of the barista. There was something about her that seemed familiar to Molly, but she couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Maybe she had encountered the woman somewhere, sometime. The woman wore a dark green anorak, blue jeans, and hiking boots. Somewhat unusual attire for Manhattan’s upper east side. Molly paid her no attention and nor did the woman in the green anorak register any recognition. She paid for her beverage and sat a table across the far side of the coffee shop from Molly. Enough of this, I need to focus,” Molly told herself. “This is New York City with a sea of some 8 million or so souls. The odds of seeing two people with a similar appearance is more likely here than in a lot of other places – especially Lynchburg, Virginia, my home town.” Molly left the coffee shop and headed for the subway station and a downtown train.

Molly exited her train as usual at 14^th Street and Union Square subway station, a short walk from her office. As Molly climbed the steps to street level, something made her look back over her shoulder. About 10 or so steps behind her, she saw the woman from the coffee shop. “What a coincidence,” thought Molly. “Or is it a coincidence? I don’t know – is this woman stalking me? Why in the world would she do that?”

That evening Molly decided to forego her usual subway ride and take a cab home. She flagged one down outside her office building, and the driver headed for her upper east side apartment. On reaching home, she paid the driver and went in. The lobby door of her apartment building was lightly mirrored, making it easy to see out but almost impossible to see in. She stood inside the door, looking out into the street. Within a couple of minutes, another cab drew not far from her front door. The passenger paying the fare was the same middle-aged woman in hiking attire. The taxi left the woman on the sidewalk, looking up at the building and peering at the mirrored door. She did not show any sign of walking to any other destination than Molly’s building.

“To hell with it!” thought Molly. “I’m going to find out what this hiking type lady wants. If she’s looking for me – she’s found me! But if I am totally overreacting and this is all coincidence – I can stop worrying about her. Molly turned to the doorman at the desk behind her. “Joe, can you just keep an eye on me for a minute? There’s a woman out here who appears to be stalking me, and I’m going to confront her. Would you watch, and if for any reason it turns nasty either intervene or call the cops?” “Sure Ms. Roberts, no problem, Just be sure she’s not carrying some kind of weapon.”

Molly left her briefcase and purse with Joe, opened the door, and walked straight out to the lady in the green anorak who was still standing on the sidewalk, pondering her next move. “Ma’am, I’ve seen you three times today and a couple of other times this week. That has got to be too often to be a coincidence. Are you looking for me? If so, what do you want?”

“I’m sorry to stalk you like this, but you are Molly Roberts, right?” “Yes I am, what’s it to you?” “And you are from Lynchburg, right?” “I am, but this is getting really creepy, and I’m about to call the police on you – what do you want?” “I don’t want anything, I just wanted to meet you and see what you looked like, see how you are doing.” “Why for godsakes?” asked Molly. “I’m Nora Walker,” said the woman. Molly looked blank. “Your birth mother.”

Fiona and Charlie’s wedding reception seated meal served at the country club had been served, consumed, and cleared away. The speeches from the best man, the groom, and the bride’s father had been given, and the band had played “Take it to the limit” for the happy couple’s first dance. Malcolm was pleased to see guests finally beginning to move around and talk to each other or head for the dance floor while he headed for the nearest open bar. The bartender was pouring his screwdriver when Vickie, a bridesmaid, and wife of a fellow groomsman and friend of Malcolm, came to the bar and introduced Faye, an old friend of her’s from high school.

“Malcolm, let me introduce Faye, Faye, this is Malcolm, a good friend, and a very eligible bachelor,” she said with an intentionally knowing and very obvious wink to Faye. “Malcolm, can you entertain Faye for a few minutes while I go see what the maid of honor is on about? She has become quite the tyrant over the last couple of weeks. We, and by ‘we’ I mean the bridesmaids, have come to fear the wrath of ‘Tanya the Terrible.’ Anyway, we have to go huddle about who knows what. It shouldn’t take long, but if I’m not back in say 30 minutes, feel free to send in the S.W.A.T. Team!”

The spring weather had been kind on the wedding day, sunny and warm, with the slightest breeze, so Malcolm and Faye took their drinks to a hightop on the terrace. From the start, their conversation flowed effortlessly. Malcolm found Faye engaging, funny, and inciteful, all complemented by her strikingly good looks. At 30, Malcolm was single, and although he had dated some, none of his romances had lasted more than a few weeks. He was himself a quiet man with a low-key disposition. Some of his past dates would pigeonhole him as ‘really nice but rather dull.’

Now here was Faye. Her vibrant and genuinely enquiring personality brought out a whole different aspect of Malcolm. He could talk to her – she appeared interested in knowing more about him, his job as a tax accountant, his bird watching hobby, his family background, and upbringing. Faye made Malcolm feel totally at ease as their conversation flowed effortlessly in a manner that Malcolm had never experienced. He even found himself engaging in banter and one-liner jokes, something he rarely, if ever, had been able to do in the past.

Vickie found them on the terrace almost an hour after she said she shouldn’t be gone long. “I am so sorry, guys,” said Vickie. “Malcolm, thank you so much for entertaining Faye, I have come to relieve you.” “Apology not needed,” Faye told Vickie. “We are having such fun, aren’t we, Malcolm?” “Absolutely! We are good. Vickie, you go and take care of your much-neglected husband and Faye, and I will just hang out here and shoot the breeze.” “Wonderful, I’ll just leave you guys to it, see you later.”

After Vickie left, Faye asked Malcolm what his plans were for the rest of the evening. “Nothing other than this reception,” he replied. “Good, can I ask you a big favor?” Said Faye, “sure, what is it?” “I have to be home in about an hour tops to let my dog out before the poor thing goes crazy. Would you be willing to drive me there, it’s about 30 minutes away, we can come back here afterward if you want.” “Be pleased to, let’s finish these drinks and go.”

They left the country club parking lot, turning onto the highway and headed east in the direction of Faye’s apartment. Malcolm chatted on about some recent sightings of a rare breed of warbler not seen in the area for several decades. Faye cradled her purse on her lap, drawing comfort from the heft of the loaded 38 that it held. “This is an excellent start,” she thought to herself. “Now, for the next step – and that will be a big one.”