TUESDAY TALES!

 

Welcome! It's time for Tuesday Tales again. Here's another episode of "The Kiss" this week. This is a story-in-progress. So please be kind, but do leave a comment! Scroll down to the link to return to Tuesday Tales and the fine stories there. Thanks for stopping by. 

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Tongue-tied, she checked the battery on her cellphone. Anything to avoid his probing stare. She didn’t think she’d ever see him again, yet here he was, sitting next to her on a bench, just like old times. How many benches did they warm in the schoolyard afterschool? Or in the park on weekends? The kids played and they sat and talked, and talked, and talked. The conversation started off polite –where you went to school, where you grew up –boring.

It was but a month, if she remembered right, before conversation got interesting. Politics, marriage, sex – no topic was off limits. New to marriage, motherhood and the Upper West Side of Manhattan, Allison had come from Nebraska seeking a Master’s degree in literature at Columbia.

Spencer Wyman had been her professor, mentor, and advisor. Totally swept off her feet, she was married and a mother within two years –her degree forsaken in favor of raising Robbie and catering to Spence.

Don had become her first friend and confident in New York. A second time parent –though he swore raising a girl was different—he had plenty of sound advice for a nervous first-time mom.

At the end of the second grade, their friendship came to an abrupt halt. Allison and Robbie left without so much as a “goodbye.”

Sitting next to Don, she felt the heat of his stare, anger burning just below the surface. How long would it be before he asked the question? She guessed maybe thirty seconds. Smiling to herself, she’d nailed it.

“Why did you leave?"

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "WIN" - BOOK, "THE KISS"

 

Welcome! This week our word prompt is "win." We have an excerpt from a new story, tentatively titled "The Kiss,"  Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thank you for stopping by.  Comments are always welcome. 

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Allison settled into a seat on the subway for the long ride to the Bronx Zoo. She was meeting her twelve-year-old son, Robbie, there. Good memories of long days spent at the Zoo with Robbie and his best friend five years ago washed over her. Recalling the feel of his small hand in hers as they walked from exhibit to exhibit brought a smile.

Now, he barely spoke to her. Surly teen years had kicked in. He preferred the company of his friends. Of course, it was normal, still, she was grateful he’d agreed to meet her. Thinking back, the happiness of those days filled with joy warmed her.  

A fulltime wife and mother, she’d strolled in the park with Robbie. Or stopped at the playground, to push him on the swing or dig in the sandbox. His love and affection had brightened her life.

As the train pulled into her stop, she rose. She was still ten blocks from the Zoo. As she walked, she thought back. Did she have any regrets? Oh, sure, she probably could have made better choices raising Robbie, but her mind wandered to one big decision she’d made, the one she’d regretted every day since.

Always early, Robbie stood at the entrance.

“Hi, Mom. What kept you?”

“We don’t live so close anymore.”

“Here’s the map. Let’s start at the reptile house,” Robbie unfolded the paper.

Allison made a face. “Five years later and I still don’t like reptiles.”

“Wait outside, then.”

Frowning, Allison agreed. She followed him, wishing he wouldn’t be so selfish and take her feelings into consideration. Teenagers. She plopped down on a bench outside. Basking in the warm May sun and no wind, she unbuttoned her jacket.

“I’ll be back.” Robbie hurried over to the entrance.

He met a boy there and they went in together. Although she didn’t get a good look, there was something familiar about him. Not surprised he’d made plans to meet a friend, too, she shrugged and took out her phone to read.

“Well, hello.” A deep, masculine voice broke into her thoughts. “Imagine meeting you here.”

She looked up into beautiful, smiling blue eyes.

“Don? Don Walters?” Then the lightbulb went off. Of course. It was Alex Walters who went into the reptile house with Robbie. He was five years older and she didn’t recognize him.

“Imagine running into you here. After all these years.” He shifted his weight.

She patted the bench. “Please sit down.” Her pulse zoomed into overdrive as he joined her. The man hadn’t changed a bit, being as gorgeous as ever.

“Good to see you.” His warm smile spread heat through her.

“Somehow I don’t think this was a coincidence,” she said.

He laughed. “Ya think?”

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "SKINNY"

 

Welcome! This week the word prompt for Tuesday Tales is "skinny." We have another excerpt from "Some Kind of Wonderful". Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thanks for stopping by. 

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His cell rang. It was Allison, the real estate agent.

“Hey, Jeff.”

“Hi, Allison. Find some sorry sucker to by The Wonderful?” He laughed.

“In fact, I have.”

He put down the glass. “No kidding?” She had his full attention.

“No kidding.”

“I guess miracles still happen.” He grinned.

“Only one thing. The buyer wants to make it a bar.”

“No.” He drew his brows together.

“Jeff…”

“No. Absolutely not. No way. No.” He pulled the corners of his mouth down.

“Be reasonable.”

“No. You know why, Allison. Accept it. I’m not giving in.”  He clamped his jaw shut.

She sighed. “You’ll get your asking price,” she coaxed. 

“I’m sorry. I hate to see you lose a sale, but I can’t give in. It’s too important. Can’t this guy just use it as a restaurant?”

“The buyer wants a bar. A bar makes more money.”

“Yeah? And creates alcoholics and serves drinks that produce drunk drivers who kill people.”

“Okay. I’ll keep trying.”

He let out a breath. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I’d rather lower the price than let the bar continue.”

“Good to know. I’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks.”

He put the phone down and sat back, lacing his fingers behind his head. If he gave in, Jeff would be breaking his vow to himself –to never let The Wonderful serve another drop of alcohol and enable someone’s addiction again.

Confident he made his point, he returned to his research, but it was no use. His concentration had fled. He sat back, finished the coffee and thought about the bar. How many horrible days had he, a skinny kid, trudged over to The Wonderful right before a Little League game to fetch his father. He remembered what his old man always said,

“I’m sorry, son. I can’t. I’ve got customers. Can’t close the bar if I want to put food on the table.”

At three in the afternoon, there’d be only old Midas Pfeiffer in the place. He and Chester were drunk as skunks. 

After a while, the other kids in Little League stopped asking Jeff where his father was. They knew Chester was the drunk who ran The Wonderful. After the first season or two, they’d even stopped teasing him about it. But looks of pity on the faces of the parents got to him.

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TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT - SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL

 

Welcome! It's Picture Prompt week! And we have a glimpse of the actual bar, "The Wonderful" -- and a short (300 word) excerpt of the story, "Some Kind of Wonderful." 

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"It's called 'The Wonderful'," the real estate agent said. 

“Kind of a funny name. I mean it doesn't look wonderful, but it might be perfect. It’s a bar, and I could serve some food, but it wouldn’t need a big menu. Lower investment. And if it’s cheap enough to fix up. Oh, what’s the selling price?” Her gaze took in the layer of grease on the kitchen wall. The tile floor appeared to be in reasonable condition.

“The guy’s only asking forty-five.”

“That’s all?” Jackie’s eyebrows rose. Placing her butt carefully on the seat, she tested one of the stools at the bar. It held her.

“Yeah. He wants a quick sale.”

“How much property?” She wandered over to a dirty window and peered out.

“About a quarter acre or so. Enough for the parking lot and a tiny garden plot.”

“A garden?” She searched until her gaze fell on a small rectangle two feet high in weeds.

“Pretty overgrown.” Allison shook her head and frowned.

“This looks like the right fit. I’ll contact a contractor. Please don’t sell it to someone else.”

“I can’t make promises.” Allison stepped over a broken floorboard.

Jackie frowned.

The agent patted her on the shoulder. “To be totally honest, you don’t have anything to worry about. No one I’ve shown this property to has spent more than thirty seconds here before turning their nose up and hightailing it back to their car.”

“Thanks. Good to know.” Jackie followed Allison back to the parking lot. Before they parted, Allison spoke up.

“Oh, one thing I forgot to tell you.”

Jackie stopped.

“The owner won’t sell to anyone who intends to run a bar in this place. No alcohol.”

"He can't do that, can he?"

"Yes, he can. And he will. He's pretty set on it." 

 

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