Reservations at 8

Will they? won't they? Can Kraig get over his devastating loss and find a place in his heart for Molly?

Reservations at 8

 

 

Chapter 1

Kraig's Apartment

"What am I going to do?" Kraig asks himself, as he gets up and paces his small home office.

His eyes wander to a large calendar on the wall, January 11th is circled in red with the note 50 pages due, scribbled in black ink.

"You've got a month, and don't even have an idea yet, what are you going to do? Think you b*****d!!"

Fear and rage swirl in him, "You can't miss your first deadline with a new publisher, no matter how established you are."

He scans over his notes, nothing appeals to him. He desperately tries to makes sense of his old thoughts, wishing that something magical would come to him, but nothing will.

"It's just not going to happen here, maybe tomorrow? maybe a change of venue?" he thinks, looking out the nearby window.

The last bits of the sun's glow ripple across the Puget Sound, as wind carries snow flurries in wispy patterns across the city.

"Could go to Duke's? It shouldn't be too busy, NFL isn't happening today and WU's bowl game isn't for another week." His mind goes to his very empty fridge and the low rumble in his stomach.

He looks around at the bare white walls in his office, he can feel them closing in on him.

"Change of scenery would be nice."

He pulls out his phone and quickly checks the weather, it tells him it is in the high 20's and but the snow wouldn't start in earnest until well after midnight.

Looking down at his "Star Wars" t-shirt, black sweats and bare feet, he quickly decides on what he'll need to wear to keep from freezing on the short 4 block waltz over to Duke's. Walking into his living room, he flips the light on to the depressing scene. Movie posters adorn the walls, Pulp Fiction, Tron Legacy, Iron Giant, are among the varied signed posters that wrap around him. His large TV looms idol, along with his turntable and speakers. He reaches into the pile of clean clothes he has sitting near the hall to his bedroom, pulling out a pair of jeans and thick black hoodie.

He pulls his jeans over his too short for his 6'2" frame legs. As he strips off his t-shirt, he hears a whooping whistle from the corner of the room, he looks to see his guinea pig Furiosa standing up on the thin rails of her cage, looking sad.

"Do you want some treats?" he says as he walks over to her cage, she starts gnawing hard of the bar.

"You just can't get enough can you?" he stoops down, picking her and her sister Margo Robbie up by their bellies, putting them on each of his bare, muscular shoulders.

"What do you girls want today? Ssome greens? Aa treat?"

They shift their weight on his shoulder as they ride him to the kitchen. He reaches inside the fridge pulling out several baby carrots. They both whistle and whoop with joy at the sound of the rustling plastic.

He takes them to the couch, setting them down on middle cushion, feeding them the carrots.

"You girls be good now, no pooping on the couch,." he says sitting besides them, scratching each of their heads as they do their piggie best to devour the small carrots.

On go socks, then his black canvas boots with thick soles, good for maintaining traction in rough weather. A tight long sleeve shirt slides tightly over his broad chest, and slightly pudgy belly that he knows he could get rid of, if he just changed his diet and gave up beer for a while. The thought of giving up bad food and good beer filled him with sadness. He pulls a black beanie, embroidered with a bison and a golden CU over his thinning and cut short blonde hair.

Kraig takes his girl's back to their cage, making sure to cuddle each of them closely before putting them back.

"You be good now, no wild parties while I'm gone."

Earbuds slide into his ears, a few clicks and swipes later the low synth rumble of The Droids, fill his head.

 

 

Chapter 2

Duke's Sports Tavern

The door opens to an old, deep hardwood floors spanning the room, jersey's and memorabilia hang on the walls. Kraig recognizes most of the sparse crowd as regulars. He slips his backpack around the shoulders of his high backed bar stool, and slides into place. A strange comfort fills him, as he gets comfortable in the chair that he has spent many nights and written many words in.

He looks up to see Becky, the short raven haired waitress wearing an half zipped hoodie and short jean shorts, sliding a full pint of hazy beer with a firm white head on top. He grabs it, taking a sniff of the floral, bitter hops. 

"What is it?" he asks

"Trust me, you'll like it."

Kraig takes a small sip, letting the hops and malt flavors dance on his tongue.

"Mmm that is good, 90 minute?"

"S**t, you're too good Kraig,." Becky says with a smile.

Kraig pulls his notebook out of his bag, letting it flop on the bar with dejection.

"What the matter honey?" Becky asks, leaning forward purposely showing off her ample cleavage

"I'm still stuck, I just can't get there, I've got no clue what to do."

"Maybe you need something to get your mind off of things?" Becky grins with sinful mirth

Kraig smiles

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well...What are you doing tomorrowTommorow"

Kraig smirks, knowing where she was going, and knowing what his answer would be.

"I've got to work, I'm so far behind."

"You can't one day off for me?" She flashes big puppy dog eyes at him.

"I really can't." he lies

"Fiiiiine,." sShe drawl,s giving him a lingering look as she heads towards other patrons.

"She knows I'm still not ready for anything like that."

He takes a small sip of his beer, letting out a small laugh

Kraig looks at Becky for a long time, "You have to give her credit, she isn't giving up, even though she know she gets to lose." The thought rattles in his head like a pinball.

"Get to lose... Get to lose......." His eyes grow wide as he flips open his notebook, scribbling "Get to lose" at the top of the first blank page he finds.

"I'll need a new character, what to call her?" his eyes fall back to Becky's curvy body.

"Becky...Bexy? I've done worse,." he thinks as he scrawls the name down on the page.

"She'll be a love interest for Andromeda, but Andromeda won't be into her, not that sShe has something against being with another woman, it's just not her thing." His pen jotting ideas down as fast as he can think of them

"It'll be a trilogy!." His gestures get more exaggerated as excitement builds. "I'll need a new villain too."

"Did you catch lightning in a bottle, love?"

His eyes swing back up to Becky, who is replacing his empty pint with a fresh, foamy beer.

"I think I have it, not just for the next book, but for the next couple, it'll be a new story arc, new villains, new heroes, the whole things." Obvious excitement flowing from his voice.

"Bexy?!?!?!" Becky exclaims, "Is it suppose to be me?."

Kraig gives her a sheepish look, "Mmaaaaybe."

An excited noise, that Kraig can only define as a squeal erupts from her chest.

"Can I take a picture?"

Kraig's hands slap down over the sheet.

"Sorry, I can't, my publisher would have my head if any of this got leaked this early."

Disappointment fills her face.

"What all did you see?"

"Nothing just my name, I promise"

"Here, let me see your arm." he says

She smiles, rolling up her sleeve.

Kraig takes his pen and writes "Bexy" on her arm, she squires from the ticklish tip.

"You can show that to people, in fact use #andromedaslove and watch people lose their damn minds."

"OK!" she says, quickly snapping a pic of her arm with her phone.

Kraig spends the next few hours working on story ideas, his mind swirling.

 Kraig steps outside, it is about 3 weeks before Christmas, and the falling snow has turned the sidewalk into a white and grey patchwork that crunches under his feet as he walks the few blocks to his 15th floor apartment. There is a subtle wind, just enough to keep the air smelling fresh and crisp. Kraig ponders how he got where he was, living alone in the pacific northwest. He brushes the thoughts away quickly because he doesn’t want to go down that road that always led to hurt.

His key slides effortlessly into the lock of his apartment and the door opens to a relatively unclean apartment that shows off his bachelor-hood. He goes into his kitchen, pulls out a snifter and carefully pours 2 ounces of the Macallen 18 into it. He takes a long sniff of the amber liquid and savors the sweet smell of the handcrafted liquor. “Man,” he mutters to himself, “am I sad or what?” He doesn’t mind being alone for the most part but after 3 years it was starting to take its toll on him. He walks through his apartment with his scotch, throwing things into piles that are meant to be picked up tomorrow but probably wouldn’t be picked up till Tuesday or Wednesday of the following week. After he “cleans,” he walks over to his record player, puts on the Beatles White album and lets the music flow through him just a little before moving again.

There is a single picture of another actual person in Kraig’s apartment. It is of a very pretty blonde woman who appears young, probably mid 20s with a smile that would melt the hardest of hearts. Kraig looked at it from the across the room and sighs the deepest sigh a man could and takes the first small sip of his scotch whiskey. His eyes then wander over to a digital thermometer displaying the outside temp. “It’s only 29,” he says to the empty void of his apartment, “I can handle that.” He grabs a tattered, flannel robe, that he calls his "smocking jacket" from the hall closet, slides it over his shoulders, selects a nice Cohiba from his small humidor and goes onto his balcony.

The smell of burning tobacco fills his nose and the taste consume his mouth as the stick comes to life. His elbows lean on the rail overlooking the city streets dotted with lights as they die into ocean, trying his best not to dwell on too much. Another sip, another drag from the cigar, he decides to focus on the new story idea, pointing his mental canoe away from the deep forebode that lays like jagged rocks at the edge of his mind. The thought “why’d it have to be snow” crowds out the thoughts of his newest work and tries it’s best to take center stage of his mind. He quickly pushes it away but he knows that sleep would be hard tonight. The city seems peaceful, which lifts his spirits a little as he thinks about all the kids that would be getting there Christmas lists ready and wondering what Santa will leave for them under the tree. He imagines that there must be some young lovers who are about to spend their first Christmas together and other couples who had spent decades together. He smiles with another sip and drag. “Here’s to you,” he thinks with a tip of his head to the city as if it were the mother that tended to all the storylines that were unfolding across her streets, buildings and homes. His phone buzzes, he looks down and it is a text from his only sibling, his younger sister Kimberly.

Kimberly - 11:47pm “hey, I hope you’re doing ok.”

Kraig - 11:48pm “I’m doing alright, it seems to be a bit easier this year.”

Kimberly �" 11:48pm “Good, if you need someone to talk too, I’m always here.”

Kraig �" 11:49pm “Thanks kiddo”

Kimberly �" 11:49pm “you know I hate being called that :-P”

Kraig �" 11:50pm “good night Kim”

Kimberly �" 11:51pm “night night”

The phone goes back into his pocket and he wonders what he’d be doing for Christmas. “oh well, I’ll figure that out later.” With one final puff of his cigar, he snuffs it out. Heads inside grabbing a shower doing his best to cleanse the cigar odor from his body.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3

Friday PM (Molly)

“Pencils Down,” Molly says to the few college students who remain in the mostly empty class room. A few more scribbles and the students get up, pack their belongings and make their way to Molly’s desk. “Have a good Christmas,” say a few of them as they pass their bluebooks in. “Safe Travels” or “Merry Christmas” she replies with a smile. After the room is clear, with her desk full of bluebooks to be graded, Molly slowly dips her head and pumps her fist. She just finished her first semester as a professor at the university and it is time to celebrate, the grading can wait till tomorrow.

She pulls out her phone and opens up her messaging app.

Molly �" 4:45pm: Out of class, we should go out tonight to celebrate.

Robin �" 4:46pm: YAY! Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.

Molly �" 4:46pm: How about Von’s at around 7. Meet at the bar?

Robin �" 4:47pm: Sounds great, see you there

After getting the confirmation from Robin, Molly slides her ear buds into the jack in her phone, turns on her 90s alternative playlist and begins to pack up all the papers she has to read and grade.

Molly is 28 years old and has recently been awarded her PhD in English Literature from South Dakota State and has come to the city for what she is hoping is a long and fruitful professorship. After packing all her personal things and the mountain of papers that have to be graded by Tuesday, she slides in her set of earbuds and starts looking for the album that says, “well done” or “you kicked some serious a*s this semester.”

Her mind wanders as she scrolls the list of albums on her phone, “Death Cab? No too down… Pantera? No, no too metal,” she thinks as she shakes her head. “Perhaps Owl City? No! Well Maybe…Sure why not.” She opens up the album, clicks Shuffle and starts to head out.

Molly is a very pretty girl, she was on a full ride volleyball scholarship for her undergrad degree and it shows that she never let her physical training slide since those days. She is lean and strong, but still has just enough curve on her to give her a near perfect shape. She likes to think she looks like Jennifer Lawrence but she tells herself that there is no one way she looked that good, even though all her friends tell her that she does.

“Do I have time for the gym?” she wonders as she looks at the clock tower in the middle of campus. 5:02 it read. “I guess not,” she says out loud to the brisk air that is to starting to blow a little harder but is not a cutting wind just yet. She lives a quick 5-10-minute walk from campus and she decides that it isnt cold enough yet to warrant getting a cab, her heeled boots click as she walks across the mostly deserted campus. At 5pm on the Friday of finals week most of the students have been gone for a while, except for the few poor souls that are unlucky enough to have the last exam time slot.

As the rhythm of pop electronica pulsates softly in her ears she starts to plan out for grading day tomorrow. She wants to get it done in one fell swoop so it would be out of the way, and start planning her course load for the next semester that is expanding from 2 classes to 4. “I should just stay at home, that way I won’t get distracted.”

“But you’ll get bored and lonely if you stay at home,” says another part of her inner voice.

Molly can’t help it, her inner voice is right, she would get bored by herself all day. So, she starts to go through the list of places she could go.

“I could get up early and go to the Breakfast Nook.” She ponders that thought for a minute “No, It’ll be really crowded. Ok, so I want somewhere with people but not too many.” She goes through the list of places she could end up and starts to slowly cross them off her mental list until a thought pops in her head.

“Kraig.”

Molly pulls out her phone to text him, but puts it away and thinks that a “chance” meeting might be more fun.

“Some light cyber stalking tonight, perhaps?” she thinks to herself.

She is giddy at the thought, maybe he will be at the bookstore. She knows he was wanting to start working on a new book and when he did he would be somewhere for hours and hours writing and pacing. Molly has one very big guilty pleasure and it is Kraig’s books that she once called a terrible waste of time and literary space. She was right in her criticism and all her education hates her for loving those books as much as she does.

Molly is a full on fan girl for Andromeda’s Love. She is active on the official fan club forum under the screen name “PhDgirl.” She reads every book on the day it comes out, scheduling permitting, and has even paid much more then she would care to admit for a signed first edition of the first book in the series “Andromeda’s Dream.” She even shed a few tears when she read the posting from Kraig that he would be taking some time away from writing due to his wife’s passing.

Molly had originally started her pursuit of academic knowledge of English Literature because she loved language and the power that the written word had to move and make emotions. Sadly, with anything you study enough, you can start to view reading as a job or it is hard to get past your critical training and just enjoy what you are reading.

This is why Molly loves Kraig’s books. She knows they are never going to be award winning, the story arcs are mostly predictable but to her they are fun and she genuinely cares for the characters she has spent so many hours getting to know.

The time between the clicks of her boots increase as the excitement got her just a bit giddy. The northwest wind is starting to pick up outside and the temperature is noticeably cooler than it had been a few minutes before. As she lugs her papers that she needs to grade, she instantly regrets her decision to not just take a cab home.

Her apartment is in a 6-story building that has a small, locally owned bookstore on the first floor. She decided to rent the apartment because of the little book store as it would save her time and effort during the day. She can just go down stairs and have her own little “Central Perk” at her disposal .

As she approaches her building, she looks lovingly and sadly at the little book store, who light’s shines brightly in the evening that is slowly turning into dusk.

“The best laid plans of mice and men,” she thinks to herself, thinking of the only handful of times that she has time to go there and all the days she has spent at the mass market book store with Kraig

 

Chapter 4

Saturday AM (Kraig)

Sleep came easier than he expected which is a welcome surprise, given his state of mind the night before. The good night’s sleep however does not keep him from waking up with a mouth that tastes like an ashtray. “Yuck,” he says to himself as he rises from a dream that burns into forgetfulness as soon as the sun touches his eyes. Beer and scotch does not leave him hungover but it does leave a grogginess in the back of eyes, “what to do today?” he asks himself. Even though it is Saturday he decides that working is a good idea since the idea is still fresh in his head. So, like every other day on which he works, he grabs his notebook and turns to his day planning section.

He writes:

#1: brush teeth

#2: take shower

#3: get dressed

#4: pack up backpack with laptop and other things

#5: Go to bookstore

#6: Write till bored

He had found that by listing out all the events that he needs to do, he will be more likely to do them instead of just staying home and watching sports or Netflix.

In order, Kraig completes all the tasks on list, he puts on his favorite pare of sweats, hoodie and ball cap, makes sure that his laptop, its power cord, notebook and headphones are in his backpack. He grabs his wallet and keys and heads out to the mass market bookstore that is 2 blocks away. He doesn’t know why he prefers to go to a place like that over the numerous coffee shops and other hangouts that are near him. Maybe it is the terrible black coffee, or the overly bright fluorescent lights, or maybe, just maybe, no one else ever spends time in the “café” section of the store. He could easily commandeer 2 or 3 tables if needed for books or other research he might be doing for whatever he is writing. No one seems to mind him taking over the space or even using the book store as his own personal library.

He looks down at his watch as he walks “10:45am.” “Guess I’ll just grab lunch while I am there, if I get hungry enough to eat.” Kraig was known to forgo eating if the idea and muse struck him hard enough. For him, writing is like gaming, gambling or other vices, he could do it for hours without stopping to notice how much time had gone by. As he enters the bookstore he makes a line directly for his favorite table. It is tucked back in the corner near a power outlet. He also subconsciously notes that there is a table nearby and he thinks that is a good thing.

Before he gets to his table he hears a “good morning Kraig” from James, the store worker who has been assigned to work the café, “hey James” Kraig responds quickly as he moves to lay claim to the table that he will make his home for the next 2-8 hours depending on how things go. He sets his stuff down in the chair and goes to the counter, “the usual please” Kraig asks of James. “Coming right up.” James grabs a 20oz Red Bull and slides it across the counter. “I’ll bring your sandwich out to you when it’s ready,” James says. Kraig tilts his head in a sign of appreciation, “thanks James, you’re a lifesaver.” Kraig cracks the can open and takes a long sip of the glorious amounts of caffeine that is carried inside the liquid. He lets out a little “Aww” as he moves to his table.

Kraig slides into the chair that has a good view of the street through the large pane windows of the storefront, plugs his laptop in to the wall, slides his headphones into their port, turns off his cell and boots up his computer. As the desktop appears, he clicks on the wireless settings and logs into the “employee only” Wi-Fi network which is much faster than the network that they give the normal customers.

About 3 months ago, Kraig had managed to talk the manager of the store into giving him the password for a signed copy of his newest book. Kraig didn’t know it, but that book ended up on eBay and it fetched about $100.

The next thing Kraig does is open his Spotify and turn on his “Book Starting” playlist. It is mostly upbeat with some light electronica, pop punk and some various sprinklings of Nerd-Core, mostly MC-Frontlot.

Next on the agenda is the dreaded email pile, he is sure there is something the publisher thinks is urgent that he must attend to right away or some upset fan who is mad about this or that. Sure enough, there is a fan who is upset that her favorite character wasn’t in the most recent book and thinks the character should be more prominent. The fan wrote 16 points email as to why “Corty” should be a more important character. Kraig is impressed with how much effort that she had put into it and he writes down a note to email the fan when he has more brain space to deal with all 16 points. The next email to be read, is one from his publisher asking him to start looking over the proposed convention schedule for the upcoming year and to “please make as many as you can.” Cons have become increasingly important in fan creation and retention. He really enjoys Con season, it is nice to be treated like someone important and to get to see some of America’s prettiest cities.

Nothing can touch San Diego in terms of size or insanity, but Emerald City in Seattle is a fantastic con and even some of the smaller ones out in Pittsburgh or Tulsa were also a lot of fun. Kraig really enjoys the smaller cons because he gets to interact with the fans a bit more and getting around the town is not nearly as hard. He approves San Diego, Seattle, Dallas, Tulsa, and Pittsburgh along with New York City. He decides that he will approve more later as his schedule comes more into focus. He knows the publisher will need to know over the next 4-5 weeks but he figures that most it could wait till after Christmas.

About the same time, James brings his ham, egg and cheese croissant to the table. Without taking off his headphones, he takes the plate from James with his left hand and extends his right hand to give James a fist bump. James smiles and taps his knuckles to Kraig’s and goes back to the counter to help the few customers who are waiting on some beverages. His Spotify playlist rolls over to Avicii’s remix of Aloe Blacc's “Wake Me Up.” The beat moves nicely in his head and he decides that the rest of the emails could wait, it is time to write, he opens up a word document, writes the books working title, “Get to Lose,” across the top and went to work.

He takes small breaks here and there to get a new Red Bull or to hit the bathroom but today he is incredibly in the zone. He knows his world so well and has spent so much time inside of it that there isn’t much side work that needs to be done for the first attempt at mapping out the skeleton of the story and getting a few of the major set pieces in place. He is so into his work that he doesn’t notice a Pretty brunette who had taken up residence at the table near him. Kraig hears a *snap, snap, snap* in his ears but ignores it, and then he hears it again, which gets his attention enough to look up and the brunette who had an annoyed looking smile on her face.

“Oh, hey Molly.”

 

Chapter 5

Friday PM (Molly/Robin)

The wind whips around Molly's tan leather boots, her head buried in her scarf trying to keep the cold at bay, as she opens the door to Von's. The Restaurant's dark woods, and lowlights are accentuated by the large, brightly glowing bottles of liquor that stretch from floor to ceiling, in every flavor and color. The sound of turntable wafts music over the patrons, in low notes, careful to not disrupt too much conversation. 

"Hey Kate." Molly says to the bartender as she sits in the high backed bar stool.

"Hey Molly, how you been?" the cheerful blonde bartender replies

"You know, same ole." Molly says, stripping layers of warm clothes off. "Has Robin showed up yet?"

"Naw." a slow drawl entangles her words. "What would you like?"

Molly's face scrunches with decisions

"Something warm would be nice." she muses "but doesn't really work with much booze."

she exhales slowly, perplexed by the options.

"Gin Martini with a twist, while I decide what I want."

"What Gin?"

"Hendrick's Please."

"Coming right up..."

"Hey Kate, did anyone request this music?"

"Nope, was on when I got here."

"Could you put Gaslight on for me?....Pleeeassseee" She says extending please as far as she can.

"Sure thing."

Molly smiles, as she watched Kate grab the record sleeve that she had bought for the restaurant so she could hear one of her favorite bands, at one of her favorite places. A faint crackle of an old radio comes across the Von's speakers, the ting of an electric guitar being picked slowly, as words flow through

Mary, this station is playing every sad song

I remember like we were alive

I heard it Sunday morn' from inside of these walls

In a prison cell, where we spent those nights

And they burned up the diner where I always used to find her

Licking young boys' blood from her claws

And I learned about the blues from this kitten I knew

Her hair was raven and her heart was like a tomb

"God, you're so predictable." a voice says from behind Molly.

Molly giggles, "Not my fault you're late."

A short, bespectacled, pale skinned woman with fiery red hair, and freckles dotting large portions of her face, smiles back at her, disrobing from a heavy jacket.

"How many nights have started with this album?"

"Most of the really good ones."

"True, true." Robin says, knowing in her voice.

"Hey Robin, how's it going?" Kate asks.

Robin looks daggers straight to Kate's core.

"That good?" Kate and Molly say in unison.

"IPA and a Jameson... double Jameson."

"Oh s**t." Molly says. 

Kate pours the golden excelsior into a tall thin glass, before she slides it across the smooth wood bar to Robin. Without hesitation, Robin pounds the contents back, giving a long exhale that is filled with the bite of whiskey.

"Oh sweet merciful savior." she says, burn still in her voice.

"What's going on?" Molly asks, holding the slim stem of the martini glass.

"We've got this new contractor and he's awful, and thinks he knows e everything."

"But he's this bad." Molly inquires pointing to the empty shot glass

"He won't shut the f**k up, I can't take it. It's like Hello!, I've got headphones on, I'm f*****g busy."

Molly giggles

"Plus they are making us learn a new back-end for the accounting software, and it's cumbersome A.F."

Molly gives Robin a puppy dog pout

"You poor overpaid accountant."

Daggers fly from Robin's eyes.

"F**k off."

Molly can tell by the loosening of Robin's shoulders that she is starting to relax a bit.

"Hey." Robin says "I've got a guy for you, he's smart, fun nerdy like you."

"I...don't know." Molly replies unevenly 

"He's available this weekend, if you want to go out."

Molly gives a shrug, as she takes a sip of her drink, rose and lavender give a faint distraction from the burn of the liquor.

"Do you have plans?" Robin digs deeper

"Kind of..."

"You're going to meet with Kraig, aren't you."

"Maybe, but he doesn't know it yet."

Disgust, mixed with a titanic sized lack of surprise consume Robin's demeanor

"You're f*****g joking."

"What?!?!" Molly tries to fain surprise

"You've got to talk to him, you're driving yourself crazy."

"No, I'm not!" Molly protests

"Yes you are." Kate interjects

"No asked asked you Kate." Fake outrage coming from Molly.

Robin's eyes grow serious.

"Seriously though, when was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"Well, it's been the end of the semester."

Robin wears a "come on" expression.

"Does thinking about him keep you up at night? wake you up in the morning? get you through the days?" Robin asks honestly.

Molly becomes sheepish, eyes dropping to her drink, finally admitting to herself what she has been fighting for so long."

"Yes." flat breathy defeat coming from deep with her chest.

Molly's eyes grow distant for a moment as she mouths the words to the song playing over the speakers

Did you hear the fifty-nine sound coming through on grandmother's radio?

Did you hear the rattling chains in the hospital walls?

Did you hear the old gospel choir when they came to carry you over?

Did you hear your favorite song one last time?

"Molly?" Robin's words break her from her trance

"Yeah?" she says, noticing a clear liquor in a shot glass that was not there a moment ago

"Are you in love with Kraig?"

Molly bites the right corner of her lower lip, her body sits motionless for a long moment. Her head starts to bob up and down.

"Mmhmm." emits from her chest

Robin's eyes and smile grow wide.

"I am in love with Kraig." Molly says out loud to reassure herself that she's confident in her answer. Her eye's meet Robin's as a heart melting grin appears on her face, giggles erupting.

"I'm in love with Kraig, holy s**t, but what if he's....."

"Stop it right there." Robin cuts her off with authority "You have to ask him out, or go on a date with him, you can't do this to yourself anymore."

"But...."

"NO!"

Robin's face is stern "Promise me you'll do this, you deserve to be happy, he probably don't deserve someone as good as you."

Molly starts to say something, but Robin will not stop for monologue.

"I've known you too long, you haven't let yourself really fall for someone since that jackass did what he did. You're in love with a good guy, go for it, be bold, get your happiness."

"But, he's my best friend."

"AND?!?!"

"What if it doesn't work?"

"What if it does? F*****g A! being happy isn't this damn hard woman."

Molly giggles a bit, letting the truth of Robin's words sink in.

"I promise I will ask him tomorrow." Molly says grabbing the shot glass, holding it up between them. "To being happy"

"To being happy." Robin echos tapping her pint to the shot.  

 

 

 

Chapter 6

6 Months Ago (Molly)

The pacific northwest is still hot and muggy from a summer that has lingered deep into the fall. The sweat drips down Molly’s body, her lavender shirt begins to cling tightly to her as she makes her way from her apartment to the large bookstore that she has never been, to get some books signed by (insert author), one of her favorites.

“Why didn’t I take an Uber?” She asks herself has the sun beat on her face.

“Oh right, trying to walk more, I’m such a silly girl.”

The line is out the door, snaking around the edge of the building.

“Oh, damn it, I knew I should have left earlier.”

She slowly walks past the sprawling crowd, looking at the young and old faces a like, wondering and hoping that some of them would leave due to the heat.

“Excuse me,” Molly says grabbing a staff member of the book store.

“Yes? How may I help?” the attendant asks with fake cheer.

“How long do you think the line is going to take?”

The staff member’s head peers around Molly, looking at the back of the line.

“From there probably 90 minutes, maybe 2 hours. It’s hard to say. “

“It’s ok to go in and get some water and come back?”

“Of course, the line is very well defined, you won’t have any issue.”

The attendant opens the door, and a fresh breeze of sweet air conditioning, hits Molly with a smile. She makes her way through the Store, standing in awe of the people that are wrapped through aisles of books and stands of comprised of games and collectibles.

“F*****g Christ,” she says to herself.

She looks to her left and sees the Café raised above her 4 or 5 steps. The floor of the café transitions from hard industrial carpet to laminate wood and the lights dimmed to give some mood lighting. The counter looks almost identical to any Starbucks or other big chain coffee store.

Molly was never one to like these things. She likes small, family owned, a place with nooks, crannies and character. She also likes the fact that smaller stores are more willing to help small authors get going and have small signing events for them.

“What can I get for you?” a friendly server that wore the name tag “James” asks.

“The biggest water you have.”

James slides his hand quickly into a refrigerator and comes out with a large bottle and says,

“That is $4.50.”

Molly pulls a Power Puff Girls wallet from her bag, and hands James a $5 bill. Feeling very dirty for supporting a corporation that is so big. She’d buy a work from a small author, she decides, to help appease her guilt.

She spins on her heel, flip flops squeaking slightly, a cell goes off on the third table in the row to her left. She pays it no mind and takes one step towards heading back into the heat and the line, when she hears “Hello this is Kraig.”

She is frozen, half out of fear, and half out of surprise. Her head spun so fast on her neck that she felt it pop in 2 different locations. Her eyes fall on a man in his early 30s, his hair was brown, but with the tints of gray growing on the temples. His soft brown eyes, seem just as inviting in person as they had in all the interviews she had watched him do.

Molly heart beats grow fast and sharp as she looks at him. She can’t believe it, she has never been this close to someone like Kraig in a situation like this. Sure, she had gone to book signings, even one of Kraig’s but he was just there, chilling. She can’t believe it. His eyes swing up and met hers. Just as quickly as her head moves to see Kraig, it moves back and she can feel her face flushing. She doesn’t know what to do, or how to act, but she knows she has to do something, run or stay? Play it cool, nerd girl out?

“You’re a damn PhD, you can handle this s**t,” she says psyching herself up.

She exhales softly, straightens out her shirt and shorts, turns to walk up to Kraig.

“Hi, are you Kraig (needs a last name)?”

 

Chapter 7

6 Months Ago (Kraig)

“Oh, sweet Jesus” Kraig thinks violently, as he sees the line starting to form at his beloved mass market book store.

“What smuck is signing today?” he asks a random person.

“Ummmm, Jim Butcher” The Random replies confused.

“He’s a hack.” Kraig says in no mood to be truffled with. 1superscript

“How many best sellers have you written?”

“Just 1, the Andromeda’s Love series.” Kraig says proudly even though he knows what was coming next.

The Random bursts out laughing

“That YA bullshit, that can’t even be made into a movie, when everything is getting made into a movie?”

Kraig walks off and hopes his normal table is open, it is not.

“Do you guys sell like Gatorade or something?” Kraig asks very loudly of James as he makes his way over to a table that he does not like very much.”

“Naw man, just some fruit juices.”

“Damn, alright, I’ll be up in a minute, and try to figure out something out.”

Kraig readjusts his bag and slides it onto the floor, pulling up a shiny black laptop that came to life quickly with a button push.

Kraig peruses the very standard fair of coffee shops like this one. His eyes roll over some high priced water, some fruit juices that promote healthy bowel movements or some other the thing he doesn’t care about.

A sigh rolls from Kraig that is both loud and intentional.

“Fine, just fine.”

He grabs a Red Bull and an overpriced water with anger and frustration emitting from his fingers tips and tosses them on the counter with a rustle and a clank.”

“More Publisher problems?”

A scanner beeps as James asks the question, scanning Kraig's first item.

“It’s unreal, they keep wanting to lower my e-book royalties AND they are starting to get really f*****g pissy about my Patreon even though, I always still source all the books I give away through them and they aren’t losing any money.”

“That’ll be $9.54”

Kraig takes a $10 bill out of his wallet and has the urge to throw it at James, but he holds his temper back.

“You came here so you couldn’t yell, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it brother.”

They bump fists as friends do and Kraig retreats to his table.

Kraig opens the bottle of water and turns its bottom to the sky, allowing the icy cold water to rush into him. He keeps drinking until the bottle is half empty then slowly opens his red bull and takes a sip. The carbonation burns slightly, so close on the heels of that much cold water.

He looks up his email and finds the call-in number for the meetings.

“You can do this man, just stay calm.”

The call-in number goes, in as he puts in his earbuds.

“Please enter the identification number or meeting ID, then press star.”

Kraig did as prompted by the robotic voice.

“There are currently 2 other people on the call.” The robotic voice chimes in again

“Hey this Kraig.”

“Kraig, buddy, how’s it going? You doing good?” an overly chipper and forced happy voice that belongs to Ben comes into the conference call line.

Kraig’s stomach rolls at the sound, Ben is the publisher’s big hitter and is only brought it during really big negotiations.

“I’m fine, but can we just get to this? We are all busy people.” Unbridled contempt rolling through Kraig’s words.

“Let’s talk about the Patreon first.” Ben leads with. “We don’t think it’s fair to us that you are making money on the side, and still expecting a full salary, plus your current royalty rate.”

“Why?”

“You’re making money partly out of what we have done for you, and we think we should be able to get some of that action, or you should be willing to take a drop-in royalties.”

Kraig’s eyes roll hard as he is pretty sure that they can hear it on the other side of the phone.

“All the Patreon stuff is side stuff, and you know that any give away that I do, I buy the books directly from you on my own dime, so you are getting a piece of it anyway.”

“But you’re making about $1,500 for these services that’s money that could be used in other parts of Anthem Publishing.”

“So you want to deny me the proceeds of my fanbase?” Kraig says, anger sitting just underneath the surface.

“Even though I’ve brought you 2 of your top selling authors and have been one of your most active assets at publisher events and cons?”

“Kraig, Kraig, Kraig” Ben says with all the polish of the best car salesman.

“Don’t think about it like that, it’s just a way to help the company expand. “

Kraig’s face is noticeably getting red

He goes to speak, but his words are caught, he goes again, and nothing comes.

“I’ve been with you guys forever, and you’re just going to do this?”

“We highly value your loyalty Kraig, we really do.”

“Just send me the updates you want to do with the contract and I’ll get back to you in a few days.”

“We’d like your answer by the end of the night.” Ben says smugly

“Not going to happen, I need time to read it over and think about it.” Kraig said this, even though he had no intention of actually reading over it in any way.”

“How about by the end of Monday?”

“sure.” Kraig says then hangs up the phone.

He slumps in his chair, mind spinning with anger and sadness, Anthem had published all his books and treated him so well when his wife died.

He pulls out a business card from his wallet from Gemini Publishing and reads the inscription on the back.

“Kraig, if AL ever needs a new home, call me anything. Jenny-NYCC 2017”

Kraig slowly types in the cell phone number that is on the front of the card, and writes a quick text.

“Jenny, you still interested in AL?”

His thumb hovers over the “send” button, with only 1 thought hanging like a dense smell in his mind.

“There’s no going back.”

The thought plays on loop in his mind till he says “f**k it, it’s time” and hits the send button on the phone.

He sits there looking at the message on his phone, wondering what will happen next, but deep down, he feels as though he had made the right decision, feeling some weight and anxiety lifting off his shoulders.

Lightly carbonated Red Bull rolls over his tongue as he contemplates everything that would change. His travel schedule for the upcoming year could change completely, he might miss some cons or have to do various book tours.

“I hope they don’t make me do anthologies,” he thinks. “I hate doing anthologies.”

Kraig sits, starring off into the nothingness that is deep contemplation when his phone rings.

“That was fast.” He says out loud to his laptop.

“Hello, this is Kraig”

“Kraig this is Jenny from Gemini.”

“You don’t waste any time do you.”

She laughs, “I certainly do not, especially when Andromeda is involved, we have been wanting this one for a long time.”

“Well, I’m ready, what can you offer me?”

As he asks the question he sees a woman’s head span over and look at him out of the corner of his eyes. It is something he is used to, but not by someone who is not 12. He starts to watch her and Jenny’s words slide into the background of his mind.

“She’s full on fan girling, she way to old and hot to be full on fan girling.”

He sees Molly make a move towards him.

“Jenny send the contract to my email, something came up.” He says as a beautiful brunette walks up to

 

Chapter 8

6 Months Ago (Both)

“Hi, I’m Molly, are you Kraig Anderson?”

Kraig, hangs the phone up, ponders why a woman such as this knows who he is.

“I am, and you are?” he asks stretching out his hand.

“Molly Reslind,” her name comes out excited as she shakes his hand.

“What can I do for you?”

Without thinking about the consequences, Molly sits in the chair across from Kraig.

“I’m a really big fan of Andromeda’s Love; I’ve been reading it forever.”

Kraig gives an honest laugh.

“Really? It’s very much Young Adult, you don’t seem the type.”

Her eyes bite into his.

“They’re fun and sometimes you just need fun in your life.”

“I really appreciate that, I wish I could have done more, but these are my bread and butter and even though they aren’t high literature I do like writing them.”

Molly tries to hold the building gush down, but she can’t fight it for long. Her words spill out rapidly.

“When Andromeda, had to kill the Beast of the Plains, it made me cry, and when (insert thing 1) (thing 2) (thing 3)

Kraig is dumbfounded, she really knows her stuff.

“I read through the series at Christmas every year when I have some down time.” Molly blurts out.

“I am very honored, thank you so much for reading.” Kraig says expecting Molly to leave, but she doesn’t.

She pulls up a chair without provocation from Kraig, sliding gracefully into place across from him.

“Are you on the forums?” Kraig asks.

A hue the color of strawberry flush Molly’s face.

“Yes.” She says sheepishly.

“What’s your screen name?”

“PhDgirl”

Kraig's eyes grow wide at recognizing one of the more active names on the forum and the founder of SDSU AL fan club.

“You really did not like what I did with Fly did you.”

Her teeth grit slightly, as the embarrassment turns into a slight amount of rage and sadness.

“Why did you have to do that to her?” her voice rang hollow as if speaking about a dead relative. “She was my favorite.”

“She was a big fan favorite, and if it makes you feel better, I’m not entirely sure I did the right thing.”

“Why did you do it then though?”

Kraig shrugs.

“I needed to take the story somewhere else, and she was the fastest vehicle, and I was ready to give Andromeda a new path.”

Understanding seeps into Molly’s eyes.

“I still don’t like it.” Molly says sticking her tongue out at him.

Kraig laughs earnestly.

“I’m sorry you don’t like it, but I can’t bring her back now.”

Molly’s combative side tenuously shows in the back of her eyes, so she changes the subject quickly,

“That phone call seemed important, should I go?”

“No, it’s ok, they just need to email some paperwork.”

“Oh, are you busy? I don’t want to take up your time too much.”

The gravity of meeting her hero is starting to weigh on her shoulders.

“No, I was going to try and write, but I don’t think that’s going to happen today.”

Molly’s lip curls in between her teeth with nervousness, then something stranger hits her.

“Why are you here?”

“In this bookstore?” Kraig asks back.

“No, in this city.”

“Ahhh, I guess I never told anyone I moved after....” his voice trails off.

A stiff silence hangs between them; Molly is eager to break it.

“How long have you been here?” she asks.

Kraig looks up to the ceiling thinking.

“About 2 years I guess, working on my third total Christmas, you?”

“A year, I teach at the University”

Their conversation goes back and forth for some time until Molly asks the question,

“would you like to go get a drink? Happy hour will be starting soon.”

Kraig, not sure about going out, lies to Molly.

“I can’t tonight, I have plans, but I appreciate the offer.”

Visible sadness slumps into Molly’s shoulder.

Even though his emotions are conflicted and he can feel lances of pain and betrayal, that is his creation, he doesn’t want to lose contact with this beautiful woman.

Feeling old fashioned, Kraig says, “here, give me your hand.”

Highly perplexed Molly extends her arm towards Kraig. He can smell the perfume on her wrist, lavender mixed with honey. Electricity flows through Molly as Kraig takes her hand and begins to write his number on her palm.

As the pen tickles her hand Kraig says “This is my personal cell, not my business number or anything like that, please don’t give it to anyone, can you do that?”

“Mmhmm,” Molly grunts out, trying not to giggle from the ticklish pen.

“Text me or something, ok?”

Unable to believe what laid upon her palm, she barely knows Kraig, but responds with a distant “yeah of course.”, she says, transfixed on the 10 digits.

 

 

Chapter 9

Saturday Morning Molly:

The closing notes of a song that Molly does not recognize or care to think about comes out of her alarm clock radio followed by the wacky saying Saturday morning DJ that is laughing and saying democracy is a joke. Molly hates her with a fiery passion, but she keeps it on the station because getting her to shut up is reason enough to get out of bed.

She looks out the window that the right side of her bed rests up against. The winter storm has blanketed the city in white powder. She watches as business owners clear the sidewalks in front of their stores, making it safe for patrons and passersbys.

8:30am glows in the pale green from her clock.

“F**k, it’s going to be cold.”

She thinks as she feels the warmth and comfort of her bed that. She is piled deep in blankets to help fight the unrelenting draft in her apartment.

She rolls the heft of blankets off her body, exposing her naked body to the cold, her n*****s harden instantly, her arms reflexively wrap around her stomach as she dances on tip toes across the bitterly cold hardwood to other side of her modest studio apartment. She slings a purple and white robe around her body as her feet slide into matching slippers. The pattern of her robe matches the flight suit that Andromeda used to pilot her Interceptor class fighter.

“S**t.”

She races back to her bed and grabs her phone and instantly pulls up Twitter. With a few clicks, Kraig’s profile and list of most recent tweets come up.

“Seriously, Kraig, nothing new? for f**k’s sake man, not making it easy on a girl” she says to her phone screen.

She flips over to Instagram and nothing new comes up.

“Damn it.”

She searches her memory

“I should probably wait a bit, let him actually get there and start getting some work done.”

 

Chapter 10

Kraig (3 Years Ago)

"Wife" comes up on the screen of Kraig's buzzing cell phone.

"Hey, baby," Kraig says into the microphone with a cheerful tone.

"Hello, this is Sergeant Rockfurt, is this Mariah Meinstof's emergency contact?" as gruff male voice bellows through the receiver.

Kraig's heart sinks as all the color of his face disappears.

"Yes, it is, is something wrong?"

"What relation do you have to Mrs. Meinstof?"

"I'm her husband, what's wrong?" fear and panic rule his voice.

Sergeant Rockfurt exhales sharply, 25 years on the force did not help to shield him for what he was about to say.

"Sir, I am sorry to inform you that your wife has been in a very severe accident, and has been rushed to St. Francis, in critical condition, depending where you are, you might beat the ambulance there." he says with a detachment that betrayed the sorrow he felt.

Shock rolls through Kraig.

"Whaaaat happened?" he asks, voice shaking with unknown emotions.

"As best we can tell, she hit a patch of ice on the highway, went into a spin and hit the center median."

Mariah had gone to Denver to see her mom and was going to let Kraig work on the 6th installment of Andromeda's Love.

Sargent Rockfurt hears a flurry of action and a door slam on the phone.

"Thank you for the call." Kraig says and hung up on the officer.

His turbo 4-cylinder Subaru whines as he races through the crowded streets, dodging and weaving as best he could.

His thoughts are a jumble, nothing makes sense, even as he sees red and blue lights spinning in his review, they never make it to his rational side. His only focus is to get to her, to see her, that maybe he can make her better.

Tires squeal for traction as he cuts through a crowded intersection in front of a wailing tractor trailer. To his left, he hears the scream of the ambulance as it rushes towards the hospital.

The steel orbs in the turbo spin and spool, grabbing air with all their might, and pushing it down into the greedy, fuel starved cylinders. The roar of the engine is deafening, but Kraig can’t hear it over the pounding of his fearful heart.

The red and blues chase the white 4-door into the hospital parking lot

The ambulance slides to a stop, with a flurry of activity at the doors burst open, Kraig slams on his brakes, sliding sideways towards the curb, e-brake already being pulled. A breath of friction keeps his car from crashing into the curb.

The car is still running, as he runs towards the gurney that holds his beloved. Time seems to slow down to him, every sound is both loud and muted at the same time.

“You can’t be here,” he hears a distant voice says.

Searching for breath, he reflexively answers “that’s, THAT’S MY WIFE.”

“Let him through,” a voice from beside the wheeled bed yells out.

The reality of the moment sets in as bloody stained hand falls limp off the side of the bed.

Kraig pushes through the crowd of EMTs and the site of his wife is instantly burned into his memory. A large piece of wood, blood soaked, fills much of her abdomen. Her normally tan skin is the shade of alabaster and her normally joyful manner contains terror.

She reaches for him, his hand catches hers.

“It’s going to be ok,” he lies to himself and to her.

Mariah shakes her head, speaking the truth that they both know was just a few moments away, as a slight tear rolls down her pale cheek. A matching one rolls down his,

“I love you.”

She smiles intently at him, her blue eyes shine with hope of 1,000 ships being launched.

“I love you too,” she manages to gasp out.

Kraig goes to say something, but stops himself, knowing settling into his soul.

The light of life recedes from her eyes.

“Baby….baby?” his voice pleads loudly across the near empty parking lot.

“She’s gone.” A young dark-haired man says.

He cries softly, slowly, standing there looking at the body of his lifeless wife. He looks for anything that makes sense, but even the motion of people seems strange to him, words are incompressible, they are just noises in the swirling vortex that has become the world around him.

Pain pushes through his stomach, as does the contents of his stomach that he spews across the bushes as he falls hard on his knees, causing blood to leak from both.

He feels a hand land on his shoulder.

“It’ll be ok, son.”

Kraig’s head looks up and sees a police officer, stop another officer and turn him away with the words “drop it.”

“Do you know what happened?” Kraig asks wiping vomit from the short stubble on his chin.

“As best we can tell, there was a truck moving some furniture that didn’t secure their load properly, a table flew out of the back of it and into your wife’s car,” Sergeant Rockford explains.

Kraig starts to sob, followed soon by, the rest of the contents stomach. His body convulses until there is nothing left in him, but keeps trying to force out something for a few more minutes.

“Can I call someone for you, maybe to take you home, or to be with you?”

Kraig does not look up, or anywhere, as he pulls his phone from his pocket.

“Sister, Kimberly.”

The officer takes the phone and steps away for a minute.

The blood from his knees is making his jeans wet.

“She’ll be here soon.”

Kraig shakes his head.

“Did you tell her?”

“Yes” Rockford says somberly.

Kraig feels a little relief that there is one less person.

“Phone, please?” Kraig asks, hand extending towards the officer without looking.

He pulls up his contacts and scrolled through them until he sees “Inlaw Home” and presses it. The phone rings only twice.

“Kraig, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“Emily, I’ve got some bad news.”

 

Chapter 11

2 YRs Ago (Molly)

The sun looms high in the sky giving a touch of heat to the cool autumn wind rolling unrelenting across the tundra of the Dakota city. Molly's eye's, secluded under her outstretched hoodie and oversized sunglasses, scan a desolate 2 lane road on the edge of town. Making her way towards a building that is sun faded with a mural that is mostly gone, proclaiming that this run down looking box of cinder blocks is the home of "Doc. Louis Mauy Thai Gym."

The door opens with a small creak from old brass hinges, the smell of sweat and blood hangs in the humid air that is both disgusting and inviting to her nostrils, a feeling of alertness washes over her.

The gym is sparsely populated at this early afternoon hour, a tall man in the back corner is working speed mitts with a thin, rugged looking trainer. A teenager, Molly thought to be about the age of 16, is getting some heavy bag rotations in. Even with the sharp exhales and panicked breaths Doc is notably quiet.

"Hey Tigress, how's it going?" a short man, with thinning grey hair asks from behind the front counter.

"Not great Doc, not great at all. Molly replies, exasperation tumbling from her chest.

"What's the matter?"

"Boys....."

Doc gives her a knowing glance, "Maybe we should focus on sparring today, get your mind off things."

If a nod could be angry, she nods at him angrily.

"Go get changed and I'll get you wrapped up."

"Sounds good Doc."

Molly moves around the almost empty gym, around dumbbells, kettlebells, jump ropes and other various gear, making her way to the women's locker. Beats of a long-lost techno DJ pulse in her ears as she tries hard to remember exactly where and when she first heard this artist, and who the f**k he or she was.

Molly looks at the lock on her locker, the thought of putting in the combination feels exasperating. She stands there looking at the anime looking tiger, flames for claws, that adorns her locker. Tears well in her, but quickly give way to a white hot falme

"F**k this day, f**k, f**k, f**k." Rage boils deep inside her, "F**k you Chuck." She screams into the empty cold room, her hoodie flies into her locker. Her abs pulse tightly, taught as steel from crying and vomiting.

Her sweat pants follow her hoodie, angrily into the locker, revealing her tight Capri leggings, black with a blue strip up the side of the leg.

A strong pain of clarity shakes through the anger and fear engulfing her.

"What am I going to do now?" she asks herself, a tear forming in the corner of her eye. "What am I going...." the pain of it hits her, capsizing her soul, tears fill her eyes.

"No, No, No, not now," she says calming herself blinking back the tears.

She reenters the gym, a raging thunderstorm hanging over her that can be seen by all. She moves her way to the speed bag and starts to warm her shoulders, but her fists land harder than they should, sending a pounding ring throughout the room.

"You alright?" a tall dark man asks.

"Yeah, Kevin, yeah... I," she laughs turning to him, breathing hard. "No, Kevin I'm not."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Ok then, just get warm first or don't work out, you don't want to add a physical injury to the one you're carrying around inside."

Her spinning world stops with the blunt dose of truth, her head nods slightly, knowing the truth her friend speaks.

"You're right, you're right."

20 minutes pass as she spends time warming up, getting her joints loose and blood flowing for her session. Small bits of sweat form on her forehead and chest, making her shine. Doc Louis comes from his office wearing speed mitts and a big foam belly.

"Let's get you working on some kick combos, ok?

A smile stretches across her face, even though she knows she wouldn't hurt the old man, the thought of kicking someone very, very hard fills her with glee.

Both climb into the ring, bouncing around slightly.

"Ok block and kick counter, alright?"

"Yeah doc."

She slides into her southpaw stance, right hand close to her head, left hand by her chin, ready to strike.

Doc gives a quick jab with his left, it bounces off her right hand, as her hips pivot, abs tighten accentuating their tightness, her left leg spins around, catching Doc in his foam belly, a loud pop rings off the walls.

"Good, good." Doc says with a smile, each jab comes faster and faster, and her kicks get harder and harder. Minutes roll by, screams and pops bouncing off the hard walls. Sweat poring off both combatants in the middle of the ring.

"F**K!" She screams as she delivers a hard kick cracking loudly, leaving her off balance, a quick jab from Doc catches her and sends her to the ground.

"You're fighting with your emotions today, you know better than that."

Her world spinning, not from the punch but from life.

She shakes her sweat drenched face in affirmation, her breath coming and going sharply.

"Take a break, drink a shake or something."

She just nods, popping back up to her feet, grabbing her towel from the ropes that surround the ring. She makes her way over to a small area with fridge and 2 tables each with 4 chairs a piece. The cold air of the fridge hits her as she opens it going for a strawberry flavored protein shake.

"You ready to talk now?" Kevin asks from one of the chair.

Her body slumps hard into the chair across from him, her words catch in her chest, as if speaking them will make the truth come to life.

"m..."

"My..."

She vocalizes a few syllables; her head drops and eyes close.

"My engagement is over."

"What do you mean? what happened"

"My Tuesday night lecture got out early, because the Prof was sick, so I went home."

Kevin's face drops, already knowing the end of this story.

"And he was in there, with Stacey, you met her, she was the raven-haired girl, who had that thing we went to that one day."

A vague memory forms in Kevin's mind.

"She's my best friend...... and he was my future husband..... and there they were, f*****g in my bed."

Tears roll down her cheek.

"What am I supposed to do now? I can't transfer, not this late in my degree."

The pace of her words increases.

"We've already signed a lease."

"Who gets the cat?"

"I've got nowhere to go."

Her face turns red.

"Molly, breathe please."

She lets out a scream, the table along with her protein shake goes flying across the room. Insatiable aggression sits in the center of her eyes. Her body then slumps back into the chair, feeling embarrassed from the outburst.

"Do you remember Robin?” Kevin asks.

Molly squints her eyes, searching the fog of her memory.

"I don't think so."

"Well, it's no matter," Kevin says taking out his phone. "I'm texting you and her, she needs a roommate, and it would give you a place to go for now. In the morning, I'll come pick you up, and we'll go visit the place where you'd be staying and that cheating a*****e had a lease and talk to them about what it takes to break it."

The storm in Molly's eyes parts a bit, feeling the calming effect of having a plan in place for how to move her life forward. Even if it is just the first step

"It's not going to be easy, but you've got friends, and you'll make new ones through this. Don't let that b*****d win."

"I won't let the b*****d win," she repeats feeling some strength return.

 

Chapter 12

Thursday of GenCon (Both)

"Where are you going, again?" Molly asks Kraig

"Gen-Con, in Indy."

"Is this apart of your 'Job...?'" her fingers form quotation marks in the air

His eyes roll, "I'm not sure I know you well enough for you to be making fun of me yet."

"Sorry, not sorry." She grins, teeth showing sarcastically.

They both share a small, sincere laugh...

"No, this one is for me."

"Is it a con about a certain thing?" she inquires

"Mostly table top games, but it was started by one of the founders of Dungeons and Dragons."

She scoffs "You play Dungeons and Dragons?"

"Look at me, are you overly surprised?"

her eyes scan over his long, thin frame, "I guess not, but I thought you weren't a total f*****g geek."

"Meh, it's a lot of fun and nothing like you'd expect."

"You mean it's more then just a bunch of dudes in a crowded basement talking in weird voices?" sarcasm drips from each word

"It's so much more than that, but in general, it's a bunch of people talking around talking s**t, and making jokes, while occasionally playing a game. Promise you, it's nothing like you'd expect." he says with a smile

"Hmm, maybe I'll have to check it out, will you take me sometime?" Hope flutters in her heart

"First rule of D&D is you have to play." He says in his best Tyler Durden voice.

Her eyes flash with worry. "Ummm....."

"Don't worry I'll help you out." he pauses  for a moment, thoughts dropping to his backpack. As he quickly starts to unzip it the larger pocket of 2.

"Take this." He says handing her a red book.

"What is it?" she says opening the book and looking at the intricate art that adorns most of the pages

"It's the Player's Handbook, was going to take it with me, but doubt I'll need it. Has everything you need to get going with a character, rules, races, spells etc..." Excitement grows in him, hoping to get another person into his world a bit more.

"Are you trying to turn me into some kind of nerd?" she asks playfully

"Why yes I am little lady."

She giggles. "How long is your flight?"

"6 hours, but it's direct, so that's a plus." Looking for a positive of being cooped up in a metal tube for that long. "really hoping they have wi-fi."

"Text me if they do? I'll keep you company, plus I could use some company myself." Her eyes scream for sympathy

"Why? don't have any friends to keep you company?" His thin lips smirk

"Not really, most of my University friends are busy getting their syllabi ready, Robin is out with her stupid boyfriend...."

"Not a fan of him?"

"F**k no, he's a dick, but she's" sardonic notes in her words "in love",

Kraig chuckles

 "She's going to have to get her heart broken to realize how s****y that f****r is."

Kraig changes subjects quickly

"What's your favorite color?"

"Purple.....Why?"

"Oh no reason." a wily grin marks his face.

Molly right eyebrow rises, giving Kraig an inquisitive look.

"Don't worry about it too much, it'll be good, promise."

A forced melancholy look shows on Molly's face

"Anyway... What are you going to be doing there?"

"Meet up with some friends, mostly authors who are going to be there for work." He takes a sip of Red Bull, "Beta some of the new games, Get a good amount of D&D in..... Do some shopping on the convention floor."

"Shopping?" she interjects

"Oh yeah, lots of ways to spend money at conventions."

"On what?"

"shirts, gear, games, new dice, books, comics, art. A little bit of everything for your inner and outer nerd."

"Who would have guessed?" She says

Kraig laughs at her, "Nerds grew up and now have jobs and money, of course they'll be nerdy ways to spend it."

"True enough... When do you have to go?"

He looks at his watch, it reads 1:15pm.

"Real soon... Thanks for having lunch with me, I always get so antsy waiting to leave."

"Anytime." She emphasizes the word

As they get up to leave, he puts an arm around her shoulder, pulling her tight into a side hug. Her heart races with excitement at the first physical touch that he has given her.

"Thanks again." He says letting go and walking towards the door.

 

Chapter 13

Friday

[Friday 10:58 pm] Molly: Hey, how's the Con going?

[Friday 10:58 pm] Kraig: Fantastic, sorry I didn't get a chance to text yesterday

[Friday 10:59 pm] Molly: I see where I rank ;)

[Friday 11:00 pm] Kraig: First days are always busy, worked way too much.

[Friday 11:00 pm] Molly: I thoght this was for you

[Friday 11:00 pm] Kraig: S**t happens

[Friday 11:01 pm] Molly: You do anything fun?

[Friday 11:01 pm] Kraig: Saw some friends, drank too much

[Friday 11:01 pm] Kraig: Mot lie fall down drank too much

[Friday 11:01 pm] Kraig: mnore than I'm use too, though

Molly giggles, the pale glow of the screen shining on her face

[Friday 11:02 pm] Molly: What time is it there

[Friday 11:02 pm] Kraig: S**t, 2am, east cost time

[Friday 11:03 pm] Kraig: I should probably go to bed

Molly's heart jumps, not wanting him to leave yet.

[Friday 11:03 pm] Molly: :-(, come on, tell me something fun, im soooo bored.

dots scroll across her screen, then stop......then start back up, then start again.....

[Friday 11:05 pm] Kraig: Like what?

[Friday 11:05 pm] Molly: I don't care, something about wht you've been doing?

[Friday 11:05 pm] Kraig: Tryng to avoid the con crud

[Friday 11:06 pm] Molly: Con crud?

[Friday 11:06 pm] Molly: F**K F**K F**K

[Friday 11:06 pm] Kraig: Whats wrong?

[Friday 11:07pm] Molly: I dropped my phone and it hit my face

[Friday 11:07 pm] Molly: It hurts

A picture appears on Kraig's phone of Molly showing an overacted frown, hair spread across her pillow, and a bright red spot above her right eyebrow.

[Friday 11:08 pm] Kraig: You poor thing, feel better alright?

As she's typing, a pic appears on her screen of Kraig, his shaggy blonde hair is worn, eyes bleeding with fatigue, hand raised in a thumbs up gesture.

"He's not wearing a shirt." She thinks quickly

"Are you naked?" she quickly types out, then erases, curiosity bursting at the seems, but a level head prevailing.

"No Molly." she says out loud to herself "You don't know him that well."

[Friday 11:09 pm] Kraig: alright, I've got to sleep now, text me tomorrow or soemthing

[Friday 11:10 pm] Molly: Sweet Dreams, are made of these

[Friday 11:10 pm] Kraig: :-D

Molly clicks her phone, the light of the screen winking off, leaving her alone in her dark apartment, eyes adjusting to the faint glow of the city lights slipping through the edges of her curtain. Her head shakes, as her phone finds it's cradle on the nightstand.

"How is this happening?"

She starts to giggle, nervous excitement touching every tip of her body

"Seriously?" she asks the darkness "How the f**k is this happening to me."

As she lay in the darkness, blankets wrapped around her tight, her firmly rooted crush begins to sprout, going past a simple crush into want, need and desire. Her thoughts race around her head, all having to do with Kraig, about kissing him, holding him close, being held, meeting his pare..... Her mental breaks slam to the floor

"Whoa now, lets not get ahead of ourselves." She silently admonishes herself.

Try as she might, she can not shake the flitting thoughts of what a relationship with the man she had admired from afar, and now up close, would be like.

Her mind looped, fantasizing, hoping, dreaming and praying, until she drifts silently into sleep

 

 

Chapter 14

Saturday

Kraig moves through the halls of the Convention, a little worse for the wear from last nights frivolity. People in costume from the entire spectrum of Sci-Fi and Fantasy pose for pictures throughout the area, as he makes his way towards the main floor. The floor of any convention often feels like home to people like Kraig, wall to wall is filled with the things they love the most. Art, supplies, books, costumes, games, comics, everything new and old has a place there. Fan's young and aged, also move in clumps through the booths and walkways looking for the special treasures, once in a lifetime finds, or just the next piece to their collection. Kraig was on a mission this morning though, he walks up to one of the larger dice merchants and asks

"What kind of purple dice do you have?"

[Saturday 7:45 am] Molly - How's that hangover treating you?

[Saturday 7:52 am] Kraig - Fine. Better liquors have tried to keep me down

[Saturday 7:52 am] Molly - LOL

[Saturday 7:52 am] Molly - What are you up too?

[Saturday 8:00 am] Kraig - Nothing I can tell you about

[Saturday 8:00 am] Molly - *pout emoji*

 [Saturday 8:00 am] Molly - Why can't you tell me?

[Saturday 8:03 am] Kraig - because

[Saturday 8:03 am] Molly - *evil look emoji*

[Saturday 8:04 am] Molly - Just give me a minute ok?

[Saturday 8:04 am] Molly - tick tock tick tock

[Saturday 8:05 am] Kraig - Here what do you think

a message pops onto Molly's screen of several polyhedral bits of plastic sitting inside a clear plastic box

[Saturday 8:05 am] Molly - What are they?

[Saturday 8:06 am] Kraig - Dice

A second picture appears of an object, that is shimmering with a cloud of purple and black clouds sitting on the surface, a gold "20" marks one side.

[Saturday 8:07 am] Molly - Dice? those don't look like dice

[Saturday 8:07 am] Kraig - The are dice for DND, there's a 4, 6, 10, 12, 20 side dice

[Saturday 8:08 am] Molly - Weird...

[Saturday 8:08 am] Kraig - It's fun I promise

[Saturday 8:08 am] Molly - ....if you say so

"What are you smiling about?"

Kraig hears from a female voice to his right.

"Oh hey Bianca, what do you think?" Kraig asks showing her the dice.

"Very pretty, don't you have enough dice though." remnants of a long last accent still sings in her words

"They're not for me?"

"No?" her curiosity peaks "who are they for then?

"Just a friend."

"Is she pretty?"

"Ummm, I don't know, she's certainly not unattractive"

"Oh s**t, she's hot, isn't she." Bianca pokes, "Come on... don't leave me hanging."

"Leave you hanging?" Kraig looks at her bewildered

"Show me a picture."

"I... don't have one." he stammers.

"Get one then!" she demands

[Saturday 8:11 am] Kraig - Hey, can I get a pic of you, my friend doesn't believe you're real.

[Saturday 8:11 am] Molly - that's odd.... but ok

a few moments later, a picture appears on Kraig's screen. Tight black shorts cling to every curve on her body, while a yellow sports bra shows off her smooth, hard abs, a volleyball rests in one hand, while the other is giving a peace sign.

 "Holy s**t f**k dude, you're not into that?" Bianca blurts

"Ummm... I don't know, I have been seeing her a lot more recently."

"Seeing her?"

"She's been around more when I'm writing, usually doing her own grading or something?"

"She's a school teacher?"

"Professor" Kraig corrects

"So? what's the deal then?" Bianca pushes further, people walking by unaware of the growing heat of the conversation.

"I don't know, it's compl....."

Bianca cuts him off

"Complicated." Her eyes roll, as she finishes his sentence.

"Kraig." Her words take on a compassionate sincerity "I've known you for a long time, since before.... and ever since...." words falling to indicate a specific event "and you need to get out there more."

Uneasiness rumbles in Kraig's stomach.

"She's obviously into you."

"She is?" Kraig honestly inquires

Bianca's eyes roll so hard, that Kraig thinks he heard them bounce off the back of her skull.

"No woman who isn't into a guy will send him a pic like that, especially without putting up a fight."

"Huh." Kraig emotes

"You really haven't noticed or thought it was strange she hangs out with you while you're writing?"

"Not really..."

"You're hopeless, how you got not 1 but 2 beautiful women to fall for you, is beyond me."

"Molly hasn't fallen for me." Kraig protests "Don't you have books to sign?" he attempts

"Not until 3pm, you f****r, don't pull that s**t. Come on, let's go get some beer and lunch."

"I'm not sure I'm up...."

"Don't be a p***y, cons are for raging, you know that."

"He smiles, I guess you're right."

 

 

Chapter 15

Molly - Saturday

[Saturday 8:11 am] Molly - Wake the f**k up!!!

[Saturday 8:11 am] Molly - Seriously b***h wake up!!!

[Saturday 8:12 am] Molly - wake up, wake up, wake up

[Saturday 8:12 am] Robin - WHAT!?!?!?!

[Saturday 8:13 am] Robin - Jesus Christ

[Saturday 8:13 am] Molly - He bought me dice

[Saturday 8:14 am] Robin - Who and what?

[Saturday 8:14 am] Molly - Kraig, you simple b***h

[Saturday 8:15 am] Robin - What dice are these?

[Saturday 8:15 am] Molly - They are for playing dungeons and dragons

[Saturday 8:16 am] Robin - Youre going to play that?

[Saturday 8:17 am] Molly - MMHMM

Molly sends the pic of the dice to Robin

[Saturday 8:18 am] Robin - Purple...shocker....

[Saturday 8:19 am] Molly - what?

[Saturday 8:19 am] Robin - You're a one trick pony

[Saturday 8:20 am] Molly - B***h

[Saturday 8:20 am] Robin - You've loved purple ever since you read the first AL book...

[Saturday 8:20 am] Molly - So?

[Saturday 8:21 am] Robin - You're just predictable.

[Saturday 8:21 am] Molly - Brunch? I could use some booze

[Saturday 8:22 am] Robin - Sure, 10:30?

 

 

 

Chapter 16

3 Months Before (Both)

Kraig skims over a book on physics, and several notes that are strewn across the table, he vaguely hears molly grading. When he does hear, he speaks up.

"Kraig?" She asks, voice timid.

"Yeah, Molly?" He recognizes the hint of her voice.

"Can I ask you something, something kind of personal?"

His eyes move from his notes, falling squarely on hers, almost sure of the question.

"What's up?"

Molly's eye's flitting away then back.

"Umm.... what was it like...." voice trailing.

"What was what like?" Kraig asks, knowing full well what she meant but wanted her to ask.

"What was it … what was it like to lose he.. Your wi...." her voice grows stronger in her decision, "what was it like to lose Mariah."

Kraig is taken aback slightly, most asked how he got through it or how he was doing, but few if any had ever actually asked what it was like.

He kind of smirks, taking a sip of his coffee.

"To say it was soul crushing, isn't right." He rubs the fingers of his right hand together, searching for the words.

"Even to say it's life changing, isn't even right," his eyes focus on her, " were you ever with someone long?"

"In grad school, we were together for almost 3 years, lived together for 2, but he was cheating on me."

"You might understand a little bit, but we were married for almost 6 years, that's what... 2000 days? That's thousands of laughs, tears, Netflix binges, fights, makeups."

Her eyes grew large, hearing the gravity pulling on his words.

"When you're with someone you don't just love, but truly like, they aren't just a part of your life, where you end, emotionally, physically, mentally and they start just doesn't exist anymore. They are essential to you as breathing, as hope or joy is."

His voice catches, then takes a sip of coffee.

"They take up so much of your mental space, even when you're not thinking about them, you're thinking about them, you can't help it. Deep down you know how long it's been since you've seen them or talked to them and when it's been too long this existential dread builds inside you until you hear their voice or see them again."

Molly can hear nothing but his words, the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop has faded, every part of her being is transfixed on him.

"I lost her so fast, there was no preparing for it, it's not like she had a long battle with something and had a chance to make arrangements or to change the house, one day she was there and the next she wasn't...."

He pauses slightly, guard fully dropping for the first time in a long time.

"You know in your head, she's gone, you're the one who had to call her parents, your parents, her boss, and you have to make decisions like what do you do with her Facebook? Do you close it? Leave it as a memorial? Use it to tell her friends that aren't close enough for a call?................. I didn't know what to do, so I posted to her account the day after and let people share those condolences, I still don't know if that was the right thing to do or not."

He bites his thumb slightly.

"Then the funeral happened, it wasn't until all that died down, that it really hit me, and even then, it took a few days..." He searches to not seem heartless, "I mean, we both traveled, so her not being beside me wasn't normal but it wasn't unusual either, it wasn't until the third or 4th day that it sunk in. I woke up, screaming, seeing the crash repeatedly in my dreams, there was nothing I could do, nothing I could say, nothing that could be done. F**k, I didn't even have a chance to go through the 5 stages of grief, it was just over."

He starts to pant, breath becoming short, emotion running pure.

"I couldn't take it, I got up and left the house at 3am, it killed me to leave but it would have destroyed me to stay. It was the last time I ever was in there, I had to have my parents come up and clear the house and pack my things, it went up on sale the next week. I, I just couldn't handle being there without her anymore."

He catches and realizes he's gotten off track.

"It was not like, who you are is fundamentally changing, there's a piece that's just gone, not a hole that is missing, it's like you lost a leg, a physical piece of you was ripped away."

Molly's eyes start to fill with tears listening to his story.

"And that's when I ran away, I had to get away from everything I knew, and I wrote that piece of s**t book, but I had to do something that wasn't normal, I had to not be me for a long time, then I ended up here. All in all, I think I have done a good job getting back to..." he makes air quotes, "normal, but I'll never be fully over it, I'll never not hope that one day she'll walk through my front door, as if nothing happened. I'll probably never not tear up when I smell her perfume on someone else."

He looks away, blinking tears, then looks back with a warm gaze look to Molly.

"I do hope to love again, I do hope that I can find it in myself to be willing to lose it all over again, but that person...."

She feels as though these words are directed completely towards her.

"That person, will have to understand, that part of me is still with her in our bed, the night before I lost her, watching something silly, just being with her, hoping for nothing more than that moment. I can give my most but my all is gone. I just really hope that whomever I get to love again can understand, I'll give her all that I can, and that's all I'll have to give her."

Her eyes see him in a new light, not broken, not shattered, transformed through tragedy into a new man, into someone who has loved with all his heart, all his soul. She knew just as he was saying those words, that she could be the woman who understood, she wanted to be the woman who understand, she knew in those words, that she had fallen completely and truly in love with him. 

 

Chapter 17

Saturday AM 2 (both)

Molly and Kraig (Saturday)

"Are you going to talk to me now?"

"Sorry, I had really got in there." He smiles, "Not often I get that deep in it."

"I can tell, you generally respond to me, when I show up."

"What's on your agenda, today?" Kraig asks, doing his best to shift the subject but the attempt was not lost on Molly.

"Just grading for my class." Her hand passes over a large stack of papers.

"Which class? American lit or …" fear spins up in his eyes.

"Oh s**t, what's her other class. Come on brain, don't fail me now," he thinks.

"Nope, you're screwed," feeling his memory banks saying back to him.

"Did you forget my other class Kraig....again?" Molly asks, eyes rolling from one to the other.

"No....Yes....I know what it is, but I can't think of the name.... Or what it deals with," exasperation becoming apparent

"I'm really sorry, Molly."

She starts to speak, but instead c***s her head and looks at him sympathetically, letting him walk right into the trap that has fortuitously materialized in front of her.

"Be cool," she says to herself with a smile.

"I...." he breathes heavily, and then decides to try and joke his way out of the embarrassment.

"My dear lady," he says, head bowing, voice taking on an ethereal quality.

"This humble knight doth apologize for offending thee."

"Is that so, Sir Knight."

"It is."

"Sir Knight, how will make this up to the lady thou hast offended thusly."

"Thusly? The f**k are you thinking, Molly," she scolds herself.

He gives a slight laugh, "whatever the dear lady desires."

Molly's inside explode with excitement, and fear. She will be able to ask him out, without bringing it up. He gave her the opportunity.

She breathes in, fixes her gaze squarely on Kraig, breaking her accent and says simply

"I want you to take me out."

Kraig's insides reel at the thought, fear and excitement play inside him.

"Molly....I" he starts, then he stops and thinks.

"Why not?" he asks himself quickly, "why the f**k not."

"Sir knight, your queen awaits an answer," her accent floating back into her voice.

"My dear, I'm sorry," his arms swing high in a grandiose gesture bowing to her. "Whatever thou doest desires is my command."

Molly throttles back a squeal, not wanting the excitement to show.

"In that case, make reservations at 8pm, wear something nice, something befitting a dressed-up queen."

"What would the lady like to eat."

"Sir knight, you can come up with that on your own. Just nothing to loud."

"As you wish." Kraig says with a smile

"Are you a knight or a dread pirate?"

Kraig laughs at the question without answering.

The reality of the situation falls on both of them as they sit in a silence that becomes awkward.

"You really want to do this?" Kraig asks trying to break the silence and immediately regrets asking the question.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Ok, then," he pulls up his ride sharing app up and notices a car that is nearby.

"I've really got to be going, some jerk-face only gave me a few hours to plan a date."

Molly smiles, joy resonating from her face.

"Not the least bit sorry."

Your car is arriving soon

Appears on his screen.

Frantically packing his bag, he smiles at Molly and says.

"TTFN."

Her eyes roll hard.

"Alright Tigger, you get going."

With that, he quickly speeds towards the doors of the bookstore, excitement overcoming the fear of what lies ahead. 

 

Chapter 18

Molly Sat AM

As she watches him leave, waves of emotion cascades against her soul. Fear giving way to excitement, then anticipation, then back to fear. All swirling one after the other. Her eyes stay fixed on him, until he disappears out the double glass doors at the front of the store.

As he disappears, her teeth take hold of her bottom lip tightly, but not to the point of pain. Tears well, her smile spreads, heart bounds in her chest only ribs and skin keeping it from leaping completely free of her. Head shrinks to her chest, as she an excitement akin to being 9 years old, who had hoped and prayed for the Christmas gift, then realizing it was in fact under the wrapping paper crashed against her shoulders.

She lifts her head slowly, seeing James through blurry eyes, his thumb moves up and down, begging to know. Molly shakes her head in the affirmative, James gives an enthusiastic fist bump and a giant smile in return. 

 

Chapter 19

Saturday After (Kraig)

The bite of the cold wind sinks deep through Kraig's clothes.

"Oofff, that's brisk."

He takes a few steps and peers down into a car window, where a younger woman with a deep red and vibrant yellow scarf pulled snug around her neck, a lion adorning the pate of her beanie, looked back at him.

"Kraig?" she asks.

He nods his heads, while sliding into her back seat.

"Hi," his words come out cold, his nose already beat red from the cold winds.

The car pulls softly away from the curb and into the slow-moving traffic

"So, how's your day going?" The driver asks.

"Umm, interesting, weird, good, yeah good," his racing mind unable to settle on any one thing.

The driver giggles.

"Not too sure?"

"I've got a date tonight."

"Oh, that's exciting, why so nervous?"

"I didn't have this date 20 minutes ago."

"Well, do you like this person?"

Kraig’s eyes grow vacant as he flashes through all the laughs, late nights and terrible coffee he had shared with Molly.

"Yeah, I really do."

"Then why the fear?"

"It's been a long time since I had a date, much less a first date."

His eyes pull light, as they survey the bright snow-covered side-walks.

"Has it really been...... 10 years......?" voice trailing off into the ether.

"10 years, wow, why so long?" the driver’s question snaps Kraig back to the here and now.

"Long story short, I'm widowed."

"I'm sorry to hear that," a slight frown forming at the tips of her mouth.

The car falls into silence, only the hum of the bustling city around them can be heard.

"Just how dirty is your place?" he asks himself.

"Where am I going to take her?" heart beats quicken.

"What is she going to want? What does she like to eat?" His head tilts side to side trying to remember "…. She’s not vegan or anything like that is she? Come on man! You know the answers to these questions,“ as his mind bounces back and forth trying to plan, remember, schedule. "Oh god, oh god, oh god, I'm fucked." 

 

Chapter 20

Molly Apartment - Sat.

She surveys her apartment, taking in its nearly spotless condition save for a few piles of neatly stacked books.

"I wonder if we'll come back here?" she thinks to herself.

"Will I be going to his place?" she wonders with seductive hope.

"Who the f***s cares where we go, I just hope he lets me," she says to her empty apartment, her mood rising with anticipation, hope, desire. No fear rolled across the sea of her mind, it was only sunny skies and plain sailing weather.

She looks at her phone, 4:45 it reads.

"Lots of time, lots of time," she thought confidently, already knowing what she would wear, having played this date out a thousand times in her head, the ending never in doubt. She thought over each ending she had dreamed of, each flushing her body slightly. Biting her lips slightly she lets out a hopeful sigh.

"Oh, god, please."

"Need to kill a little bit of time," she thinks.

Her eye's meander over to her nightstand, thinking of the moderate assortment of toys she has stowed inside.

"Don't want to seem too eager."

She takes a step towards her nightstand, anticipation building, as the cold sharp-edged knife of reality plunges into the heart of her fantasy.

"What if he's too eager?" her emotions drop. "it's been what?" Molly does quick math in her head, "3 years!?!?!" dread fills her. "Come on, it's Kraig, it'll be great no matter how short."

An ache grows in her as she lets out a defeated whimper.

"He's a nice guy, surely he can he'll fill the down time nicely until he's ready again. Besides, if it's going to happen, it's got to start somewhere. If it keeps happening...."

This thought stopped her, the fear and worry rolling away as the excitement returns.

"Keeps happening," she says out loud, letting out a squeal. 

 

Chapter 21

Kraig Apartment - Sat.

"There is never a good time to go on a first date," Kraig thinks to himself, pulling his black wool coat over his shoulders.

He looks at himself in the mirror, black slacks and a black coat give contrast to the light blue button up he is wearing, top button undone with no tie. His hair done up for the first time since he couldn't remember when.

"Not too bad, not at all."

"Is it enough though? What if she's more dressed up?" fear rattles his skull, "maybe I should just cancel, yeah this is a bad idea."

He reaches for his phone, hands trembling, as he pulls up her contact info. Her picture flashes up, the one he took of her, not too long after they met. Her eyes stared deep into the camera, an awkward smile graces her face. He returns the smile to the pixel representation.

"No, this is happening."

The phone slides back into his pocket. He checks his watch, the one he only wears when he dresses up. The silver face reminds him that he has 20 minutes to get to her apartment. He grabs the keys to his prized 1967 cherry red mustang, remembering the weather, he puts them back, and grabs the keys to his Subaru WRX.

"Safety First," he thinks.

Butterflies whip around his stomach as he takes the elevator down to the garage. The doors split and the sharp cold air bites into his exposed skin, but today he does not care. With deep breaths he takes in the sobering wind, feeling the promise of renewal that comes with the Winter.

The car hisses to life, red dials flick on black faces, he looks at himself in the rearview, his collar popped, and he smiles back at himself. He lets the engine rev, then fall back to a purr, he feels the glee of being a much younger man, almost feels cool, like the quarterback going to pick up the head cheerleader. He knows that he never was that or will be that, but he doesn't care, he's about to go pick up someone, and not just anyone, he's about to pick up the person who has given him the spark back, his best friend.

"My very pretty best friend," he thinks as the clutch depresses, gas pedal slowly going towards the floor as the car rumbles out of its spot and towards the exit of the garage.

Loose snow whips across the desolate roadways, the streat lamps have been glowing for some time now, giving a warm, golden hue to the cold city. A smile creeps across his face, as Bleachers plays through his speakers. He feels happy, excited, hopeful and even a little bit lucky to be exactly where he was at that exact time.

The lights play nice, and get him to Molly's apartment without much interruption. There’s a parking space right in front, that does not require him to parallel park beckons him.

"Clean living," he muses to himself.

He realizes, as his body carries him up the stairs, that he's never actually been here before. Making his way down the hall, he can smell Christmas in the air, warm nutmeg, cinnamon, warm yeast and merriment.

318 reads the door that he stops in front of.

A deep breath, a small pause, then knuckles rap twice against the solid wood door.

A million rapped heart beats and an eternity pass, in the long moment before the lock mechanism slides out of position, clicks and the door creaks open. 

 

Chapter 22

Pickup (both)

The door opens slowly. Molly stands there, black satin heels fold softly around her feet pulling her calves taught, her black dress ends just above her knees, a pink pea coat ends just above her skirt. Her black frame glasses, give contrast to her soft cheeks. Diamonds cling tightly to her wrists, as her hair sits softly in a loose knit cap.

Kraig had never seen her like this, nor had Molly seen him like this. They both take each other in for a moment.

"Say something!" some part of Kraig's brain yells at him.

His mouth opens, and words catch...."Wow, you look amazing."

She giggles.

"You don't look so bad yourself, I honestly didn't know you had it in you," obvious sarcasm rolls around her words.

Kraig laughs.

"Well... You're going to be cold."

They share a hearty laugh, some of the palpable tension release into the near Christmas evening.

Her eyes fall intently on him, she reaches out, grades the nape of his jacket with both hands. Molly pulls him in tight, her lips connecting to his, his surprise quickly fades, and they move together, his hands falling to her hips, explosions of electricity going off in Kraig's mind, sweet release leaving Molly.

She pulls away, looking at him with no apology.

"I... I just couldn't wait."

Kraig, trying to regain the breath that Molly had stolen from him.

"...It's alright...." his head still spinning, he grabs her hand tightly fingers interlacing, "if we're not careful... the reservations are at 8 after all." Words escaping him

An honest smile adorns Kraig's face, hoping to let her know that everything is ok. Her insides are exploding, as if it was the first kiss she had ever had.

"Then lead the way Sir Knight, escort me to my chariot."

"As you wish."

They walk, not speaking through the sterile halls of her apartment building, the hard heels of nice shoes popping in their ears. Words rise and fall in their throats, wanting to speak, but afraid to do so. Kraig transfixed on making the reservation, she’s transfixed on not mounting him in the hallway.

"Where are we going?" She manages to push out through controlled lips.

"Jeramiah's," he says, slightly worried.

Her eyes grow.

"Really? I've thought about going there but could never bring myself to go."

He just shrugs, "only the best for a queen."

Her eyes glint under hinted tears, was it really happening? She wasn't sure, but she knew she heard footsteps and could feel the cold of the approaching outdoors.

Kraig opens the door for her, she slides in, the soft fabric of the brushes up against the back of her legs, there is a scent of French vanilla complimenting the perfectly detailed interior. The stereo gives a faint orange flow that gently caresses the shift knob. The cabin still warm from the heater, giving a nice respite from the short but very cold walk to the car.

As Kraig slides in, he is hit by the scent of her perfume for the first time, his senses going dizzy for a moment.

As the car kicks on words trickle softly out of the stereo:

" saw you standing on your own

And I get the feeling that it's, it's all a dream

And I wanna get up

To the rhythm of a wild, to the rhythm of a wild heart

That beats, that beats like a drum"

Molly recognized this immediately, taking her by surprise. She knew this was Kraig's "I'm really nervous and need to calm down" album

"Is he really this nervous? About a date with me?" it made her more nervous, but also very flattered that someone would get nervous about being out with her. 

 

Chapter 23

Dinner (Both)

The entrance to the restaurant was a few steps down from street, a nondescript sign, above an even more non-descript door, greeted them. The well-worn, brass door knob, ached with cold, but opens with the slightest flick of Kraig's wrist.

Bourbon, brandy, finely aged beef, and perfect seafood waft through the open door, warming their bodies before the heat of the building could.

"Oh my...." Molly moans.

"Just wait...."

They enter a small seating room with curtains separating it from the rest of the structure.

"IDs please," the host, dressed in an exquisitely tailored 3-piece suit, gold tie and cufflinks bouncing off the deep black of his jacket.

"Why do they want our IDs?"

"I'll explain later," Kraig already presenting his ID to the Host.

"Very good, and you miss?"

She gives him a strange look, a very unusual request from a place that was not in the business of serving alcohol and playing music. She digs through her clutch, quickly snatching the small piece of plastic, handing it to the Host.

"Very good, right this way," he says handing their IDs back to them with his left hand and parting the curtain to the dining room with his right.

The sound of low conversation, the slight clinks of silverware pick up as they head into the main room. The floor is soft and pleasing to the eye, a mix of sea foam, and dark waves swirling around the tables.

The walls are adorned with large angry murals of the sea, winds following, lightning snapping, boats, being tossed to and froe among the never-ending storm. Molly could almost hear the cries of the violent oceans as she gazed from painting to painting.

There are 27 tables, in the medium size room, no more than 4 seats at each, their bright cherry wood plays off the dark floor, creating a seeming respite in the face of the storm, a lighthouse in the tempest.

"Is this table preferable?" the Host asks, motioning to a table near the back corner, with only 2 chairs, sitting under a vast scene of waves and stars.

"Yes, this will be fine," Kraig says.

The host pulls out the chair for Molly, leaving Kraig to fend for himself.

Molly's eyes fall on to Kraig wide with astonishment.

"This place is something else, but I guess we didn't need a reservation," she says scanning the half empty room.

"No, we did, they will not seat you if you don't have a reservation, this place could be completely empty and the Mayor himself wouldn't be able to get in without one."

"The f**k," she says

"It's why they ask for IDs instead of a name, they have had so many people trying to scam a table throughout the years that they say just screw it and do everything by ID."

"That's intense, I'm not sure how I feel about that."

Kraig chuckles, "I promise, you won't care once you have their crab puffs."

Molly's eyes grow wide with anticipation.

The evening slides into the comfortable ballet of Knowing, small laughs, sighs, anxious bites of food, danced in order perfectly, until a fateful question was asked by Molly.

"So, where to next?"

His mind snaps to attention, wondering what could possibly be the best answer.

"I really haven't had a chance to think about it, you gave me so much time to plan this."

She giggles, not the least bit sorry.

"You have any ideas?"

She plays and looks at her watch, not wanting to him to know where her mind went first.

"It's kind of late, and I really don't feel like a bar in this weather," she says, leading the way.

"Good point, I guess I could just take you home."

Disappoint roils her face.

"I'd love to see your place, it sounds lovely."

His eyes growing wide with surprise, and a large helping of abject fear.

"Sure..." the words come out shallow, "we could watch a movie or something."

"That sounds great, do you have some comfy clothes I can borrow when I get there? I don't want to spend all night in this dress."

*Holy f**k* his hormones explode into his brain.

"Probably, I got some sweats and some extra hoodies, they'll be a bit big, but you can make due, I'm sure."

Her grin, laced with sin, shows brightly on her face.

"Well, shall we be going then?"

"We shall," Kraig says, standing from the table, offering a hand to help her. 

 

Chapter 24

Kraig's Apt. (Both)

Molly appears out of his room wearing baggy sweat pants, that cover all but the ends of her toes and a thin zip hoodie that drapes over her body. Kraig looks at her, her hair bouncing playfully with each step, and wonders if she is wearing anything under the zipped hood.

"Go change, no need to stay in those all night," she says with a smile.

"Alright, find something on Netflix or whatever to watch, and I'll be right back." He feels a little uneasy as he makes his way to his room.

"What is her game?" He wonders to himself, as he changes quickly into some sweats and a t-shirt.

As he comes out he hears the screech of an old dial up modem, as the opening credits to "You've got mail" start to play on his TV. He looks at Molly, holding 2 bottles of beer, already cuddled under a blanket.

"I didn't think you mind," she says handing him a bottle as he sits down.

Molly slides close to him, arm against arm, her perfume drifts into his nose again, making him realize just long it's been since he's been in a situation like this. Butterflies roll in his stomach unsure of what to do.

"I love this movie," Molly says absent mindedly.

"Even though Tom hanks is pretty much the worst person ever?"

"What!?!" fake outrage coming from her voice, "Tommy tom is the best."

"Not only does he catfish her, he runs her out of business, gets her to fall in love with 2 people at the same time, while feeding her information from both sides, it's a dick move."

"I don't care, it's still sweet."

"In a Stockholm syndrome kind of way."

She looks at him and pops the top of his head, all while wearing a playful smile.

Before too long, Kraig realizes that Molly is all but in his lap, her head on his chest, watching the movie, silently sipping on her beer.

"You can do this she thinks to herself, you can do this," she steels her resolve, waiting for the right moment.

She feels Kraig relax under her as he sets his beer down.

"Now or never," she thinks.

A flash later, her body springs, spinning, straddling.

"Oh hi," Kraig says surprised, as her hair starts to block out most of his view. Her bottle makes its way to the end table, her fingers still cold from the bottle slide into his hair, her entire body screaming with lust and want, pulls him close, her lips touch his, as the rest of their worlds disappear into passionate heat.

 

Chapter 25

Sunday Morning (Both)

The shimmer of early morning, slowly peaks through Kraig's windows, coaxing him gently from his sleep. His eyes flutter as the night before floods back to him. He smiles, as he looks at the beautiful woman who is bundled up beside him, happiness, like a cold wind cuts through to his core.

He lets out a small laugh and thinks, "sometimes you just get to win." As he fades back into his contented sleep.

 

 

Author's Note

Any advice is welcome. This isn't finished yet but have at it

Reviews

[JayG]

Well, you did ask...

But first, a disclaimer: What I'm about to say isn't related to your talent or potential as a writer. Nor is it about good or bad writing. It's that you, like pretty much everyone who decides to write fiction, are the victim of both a common misunderstanding, and a critical point we all miss.

The misunderstanding is that since we're given a skill called writing, and the profession is called Fiction-Writing, we naturally assume that the shared word means the two are related. But they're not. The word "writing," when used for fiction, refers to an entirely different set of writing techniques and items of craft.

The only writing techniques we're given in school are those necessary to write the reports and essays we were assigned in endless numbers. And the goal of such teaching is to ready us for the needs of our future employers. And because of those needs, that kind of writing is designed to inform the reader. And as such it's author-centric and fact-based. As the narrator, we explain the events that are being described.

With that in mind, look at the first few lines as an acquiring editor or agent would:

• A single vertical line flashes on his computer screen, filling him with dread and despair.

"Him?" He's not important enough to rate a name when you first talk about him?

And...as stated, an unknown male notices something flashing on his computer screen (you meant there was a constant line vertical line, I think, but you said flashing, which isn't something you'd see for a computer of monitor failure). For unknown reasons, that upsets this unknown person a great deal—though why isn't apparent.

What can a reader make of this? Nothing, because we lack context. As you read, you know what's going on, and why. And as you read, you hear emotion in the narrator's voice—your voice. But for a reader, it could be happening in any country, and any century after development of the personal computer. We might even be in another world. And while you might say to wait, and it will become clear, a reader won't. First, because no clarification will retroactively remove the "huh?" that the reader is feeling. And next, because the reader has no assurance that you will clarify.

• "What am I going to do?" Kraig asks himself, as he gets up and paces his small home office.

Wait...his computer has malfunctioned instead of trying to figure out what's wrong he gets up and paces? Were you the person in that situation, would you be whining about the unknown problem, or would you be trying to fix it? We're not with him, in any case. We're with the narrator, who's talking about what they visualize happening in the scene.

• His eyes wander to a large calendar on the wall, January 11th is circled in red with the note 50 pages due, scribbled in black ink.

Were this you or I, we 'd be thinking about how to solve the problem, not noting things simply to provide an invisible watcher with information about the future. Your character must be a real person, acting as a real person would, not as you dictate for informational purposes.

Think about yourself in that situation. You have an assignment due in a month and the computer malfunctions. Do you:
a) Go into a funk, cry "Woe is me!" and assume there is no solution, even though you have a full month to complete it?
b) Try a few things like rebooting the computer, researching the possible cause via your phone, or asking that computer expert friend that everyone has?
c) Think about the possibility of working at the public library, borrowing someone's computer, or having the thing fixed, which would take a day or two and not impact the project significantly?
d) Get to work on the research aspects of the assignment, and the organizational details while you handle the computer problem in the background.

If you ask the average reader what they'd do, I'm pretty sure you'll hear a mix pf everything BUT point A.

At the moment, you're treating the character like a plot device, not a character. He does and says things, on cue, to make the reader know what you want/need them to know. But how can he seem like a real person if he's your robot, smart when you need smart and dumb is that's required.

My point? Everything I mentioned above is the result of that misunderstanding I talked about that has you using nonfiction writing skills for fiction. You're providing an informational experience to people who are seeking to be moved emotionally, as a form of entertainment.

Look at yourself when reading a horror story. At some point in the story, the protagonist is going to feel terror. As a reader, do you want the author to tell you that? Or do you want the author to make you feel as if you ARE the protagonist, living the story in real-time, and to terrorize YOU, and make YOU afraid to turn out the lights?

Of course you want the author to take you on an emotional roller coaster ride, not feed you a series of facts. Problem is, though, no way in hell can the nonfiction writhing skills we were taught do that. And they're not meant to. The approach to nonfiction is fact-based, The approach to fiction is emotion-based.

So why didn't you know that? Because of that critical data I said that we all miss—which means you have lots of company. And here's the killer: ALL professions are learned IN ADDITION to the general skills we're given in school. And, of course, Fiction-Writing is a profession. Which means...

So although we're not aware of it, we leave our schooldays exactly as well prepared to write a novel as to do brain surgery.

The solution to that problem? It's simple. Just pick up the techniques of writing fiction and use them, instead.

Of course, learning about this after you've written and polished nearly 19,000 words is the last thing you wanted to do, and it hurts. I know, because I'd written six novels before I found out via paid critique. But on the other hand, you can't fix the problem you don't see as being one. So had I not had that critique I'd never have sold my work, so, painful or not, it's necessary.

In fact, most hopeful writers never learn what the problem is, which is why the rejection rate is greater than 99.9%.

And, if you are meant to write, the learning will be fun. I won't kid you, though. Yes, the solution is simple, but learning any profession takes time, practice, and study. And ours isn't an easy one to master. But still, they publish new writers all the time, so why not you?

So have at it. Hit the local library system's fiction-writing section and devour a few good books on the subject of fiction-writing technique. If you don't find it fascinating, you've learned something important. If you do, it's good news. So it's win/win.

And while you're seeking those books, keep a lookout for the names, Dwight Swain, Jack Bickham, James Scot Bell, or Debra Dixon. They're gold. And whatever you decide to do, hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/