AncilI eventually began to pay a bit more attention to the workshop proceedings when Don Hummers invited us to come up and talk a bit about the stories we were working on for a couple of seconds. One guy went up and talked about his book which featured a man dealing with an alter ego sort of like Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde but from an alcoholic’s perspective. Every time he drank, he became a completely different man with a different face, attitude, and accent. The moral of the story was incredibly deep and profound as it portrayed how alcohol has the power to change you. Samantha looked like she was enthralled by the synopsis since most of her life’s actions were complemented and complicated by alcohol. She was sort of an alcoholic herself pressed between her incredibly blunt and straightforward self and her incredibly blunt and straightforward Mr. Hyde.
It was now my turn to present my story and I was actually looking forward to it. My anxiety kicked in a little while I was on my way up to the front of the class but I fought it off nicely as I began to speak. “I have a lot of stories that…”
“Start with your name and age,” Don Hummers interrupted me as two of his fingers nudged his glasses up his wrinkly face.
I cleared my throat pretending not to be intimidated by the scores of eyes then started again. “My name is Ronald Baker and I’m nineteen years old. I’ve written a couple books but I have yet to finish any. My most completed manuscript is my superhero story called Beyond The Cape which follows the life of a superhero who has lost his powers and has to deal with the reality of being a normal and fragile human being. In his adventures, he meets a policewoman who, in retrospect, considers herself a superhero and she shows him that you don’t need superpowers to save lives but just the heart of a hero and the will to make a difference.”
“Sounds like a great story,” Don Hummers said upbeat with a clap.
I sat back down and a host of people went after me discussing their stories. The girl next to Samantha finally went up.
“My name is Kate Warren and I’m eighteen. I usually write erotica and romance but I sometimes dabble in Fantasy. My most recent manuscript is called Notes of a Love Affair which is about new neighbors who fall in love with each other after throwing notes through each other’s windows. It’s still incomplete but I’m getting there.” She pursed her lips and nodded her head with both hands tucked in her two back pockets.
“Thank you, Kate! Sounds like an intriguing tale of love.”
She nodded with her lips pursed again, then went back to her seat.
Don Hummers talked a little bit more about character development, invited us to other workshops then left. I tried to ask him some questions but there were so many people around him that the effort seemed futile.
Samantha was on the phone and Kate was just standing there creating the perfect opportunity for me to go talk to her, so naturally I couldn’t waste it. I sucked up all the air in the room hoping that there was something in it that could have helped me. Then, I walked over to her.
“Hey,” I started.
“Hey,” she answered. It wasn’t the “leave me alone” kind of “hey” but more like the “I have nothing better to do right now so anything is great right now” kind of hey.
“So you’re a writer?” I said.
“Yeah, I am. I’m no Nora Roberts or J.K Rowling but I’ve been working on a couple of stories in my spare time.”
I nodded my head while I tried to find something else to say.
“You’re Ron, right? Sam told me about you,” she jerked her head to the side, inspecting me. “She said that we’d get along great since we’re both writers and whatnot.”
“Yes. Based on my experience, I can say that writers tend to get along great with each other. I think it’s just our ability to-“
“Read each other’s minds,” Kate said, finishing my sentence but not really finishing my sentence.
“Writers do a lot of reading but reading minds, I don’t think we can read minds.”
“No, we can’t,” she laughed.
“It’s our ability to relate to being by ourselves and in our own heads,” I added.
“Not all writers are introverts,” Kate interjected. “There are a lot of really talented writers out there who are extremely outgoing.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “Saying that all writers are introverts is like saying that all Asians are Kung fu fighters but that’s a horrible example because that brings race into question and-” I was getting just a little ranty rambly and I needed to stop. I stopped with a question. “So, how would you describe yourself? Introvert or extrovert?”
“I can swing both ways if I need to. I can spend weeks at a time by myself without feeling lonely but then there are-“
“Just those days,” I added, finishing her sentence.
“Maybe we can read each other’s minds.”
Our eyes locked for about five seconds before Samantha got off the phone and interrupted us. “Hey, Ron! It’s so good that you made it.” The room was now basically empty with only Samantha, Kate, and myself. The rest just left seemingly without any intention of making friends.
“Yeah, I couldn’t miss this for the world. Don Hummers? Come on,” I said
“You know I really wish we could talk a bit more but my mom has been calling me the whole morning to pick Nathan up from John’s. I really have to go.”
“I’ll call you later,” I said to Samantha
“Yeah,” she then turned to Kate. “Are you ready to go?”
“You’re taking her away already. We were getting along so great,” I said.
“I could handle myself, Sam,” Kate said warmly to Samantha.
“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s your father. He freaks me out.”
“Go on. I’ll be fine. He’s probably not even home yet,” Kate said. We finally convinced Samantha after a while and after great hesitation she left us.
At about 12:30 pm Kate and I ambled down the empty school corridor towards my car in silence until I finally asked, “What is it about your father?”
“He’s a good guy but he’s really overprotective. I can’t even go anywhere with friends without him overreacting. He treats me as if I’m a baby or something.”
“You’re eighteen. You shouldn’t let him control you like that.”
“He’s my father! What am I supposed to do; run away?”
I didn’t respond.
“Maybe if I can get one of my books published, I could afford to do whatever I want but right now my father is the only family I’ve got,” she continued.
“I understand.” We got to my car and we both got in. I started the engine and we hit the road. “Well, if your father ever gives you a chance to go out, feel free to give me a call we’ll grab some lunch, maybe dinner.”
“I’d like that,” she smiled.
She led me to her home which was a two-story house in a busy suburban area, not too far from the school. There were houses all around and they all basically looked the same.
“Thanks. See you soon,” she said, getting out of the car.
I observed her a little as she got out of the car. Her round butt snuggled tightly in her fitted dark blue jeans was somewhere in between hardcore sex appeal and artistic beauty sculpted by God himself. There was very little skin to see amidst her green turtleneck sweater but the little that I saw of her olive skin was enough to invigorate my very wild imagination. I was completely entranced by her but then it hit me. I didn’t have her number nor did she have mine. Shouting through the car window, I addressed the issue before she could reach her door and we both exchanged phone numbers. I remained a while watching her as she made her way to the door. On the surface, it looked like I was ensuring that she got inside safely but it was way more than that.
Her father opened the door before she got to it and our eyes met. He looked at me like a lion eyeing down its food before it leaped. He said something to Kate, roughly grabbed her by her hand, and pulled her inside in the same manner. He then slammed the door shut behind them. I was a little taken aback by the manner in which he pulled her inside but I decided that it just wasn’t my place and I drove off.
