This little bit I like to use as a starting point with people who are not familiar with my writing style. It gives them a sense of the worlds I like to write about. And, I feel, that starting them with one of my more mellow characters help acclimate them to what or who they might meet eventually. Sometimes there is variation, like sometimes I put a lot of detail into it, sometimes I sketch it out really fast to water down my style for the other person, or just for time's sake. Here's the basic way it usually goes...
Reinen locked his office door, eager to be home. The day had been long and mostly uneventful. As, uneventful as a day at a hospital could be at any rate. He just wanted to go home. His shoes echoed hollowly in the near empty corridors.
“Good night, Doctor McArta!” The secretary chirped as he passed. He had never been sure of her name. Jenny, or Penny, something childishly sweet like that. He smiled and nodded back to her. “Oh, Happy Birthday, by the way! Have any big plans?” It was his birthday? It was. Thirty-five. He marveled at how time had gotten away from him.
“Uh, no not really. Going home and feeding the dog.” He made a small apologetic smile in her direction.
“Really? A good looking doctor like you, not having plans for his birthday...” She grinned. She was flirting and he knew it, but he didn’t care to acknowledge it. He just raised a parting hand and bid her good night.
He sat in his car for a while after that, staring out across the darkened parking lot. A soft rain had begun to fall. Drops splattering across his windshield at regular intervals. It was his birthday. He suddenly didn’t feel like going home. Maybe a drink. Just one. Then home. Yeah, that would be a good idea. He started his car and rolled out into the deepening night. He knew a place.
Samson’s was small but lively. It had been the same as the day he turned twenty-one and his brother had bought him drinks until he was slouched on the curb outside emptying his stomach of everything he’d ever eaten. That was a long time ago. Tonight it wasn’t busy. Partly because of the rain, partly because it was the middle of the week. The aging, round proprietor waved at him in greeting as he walked in. Reinen took a stool.
“Good night, Doctor McArta!” The secretary chirped as he passed. He had never been sure of her name. Jenny, or Penny, something childishly sweet like that. He smiled and nodded back to her. “Oh, Happy Birthday, by the way! Have any big plans?” It was his birthday? It was. Thirty-five. He marveled at how time had gotten away from him.
“Uh, no not really. Going home and feeding the dog.” He made a small apologetic smile in her direction.
“Really? A good looking doctor like you, not having plans for his birthday...” She grinned. She was flirting and he knew it, but he didn’t care to acknowledge it. He just raised a parting hand and bid her good night.
He sat in his car for a while after that, staring out across the darkened parking lot. A soft rain had begun to fall. Drops splattering across his windshield at regular intervals. It was his birthday. He suddenly didn’t feel like going home. Maybe a drink. Just one. Then home. Yeah, that would be a good idea. He started his car and rolled out into the deepening night. He knew a place.
Samson’s was small but lively. It had been the same as the day he turned twenty-one and his brother had bought him drinks until he was slouched on the curb outside emptying his stomach of everything he’d ever eaten. That was a long time ago. Tonight it wasn’t busy. Partly because of the rain, partly because it was the middle of the week. The aging, round proprietor waved at him in greeting as he walked in. Reinen took a stool.
Samson lumbered over. He’d never been a small man, but the grace of his movements suggested that most of his bulk was not fat. The man looked like a viking lord of old. Round and sturdy. Blonde hair receding in the front and a full, thick beard cascading down his barrel of a chest. He always had a smile and a story for everyone who walked in.
“Oh, ho! Haven’t seen you here since... well, for a long time anyway. Still the regular, right?” Samson grinned at Reinen. His teeth spoken of dentures. Reinen nodded and Ole Sam deftly poured him a pint from one of the many gleaming taps.
“How you been? Heard you’re doing pretty well for yourself. Can’t say it’d be hard, seeing as you’re a doctor an’ all. Old Greg Cummins said your brother’s wife just had another baby. Good to hear...” Samson rambled on. Reinen sipped his beer, nodding when appropriate, then the inevitable question, “What brings you in tonight?”
“It’s my birthday.” Reinen replied. Sam laughed uproariously.
“Well, then boy! I gotta get you something special! You’re drink’s free. Lemme get Martha to make you something. Martha!” He called through a tiny window behind the bar into the kitchen to the mythic Martha, who Reinen had never really seen, except glimpses through the tiny window. “Make the young doctor something nice!” Samson turned back and continued his artful small talk. Shortly a little paper bowl filled to the brim with fries and sauces appeared in the window. Sam placed the steaming, greasy, dripping concoction in front of Reinen. He rummaged under the counter and emerged with a tiny flag on a toothpick. “Ain’t got any candles...” He said and jammed the flag into the food like an explorer claiming a mountain. Reinen thanked him and stared doubtfully at the fries. His stomach grumbled at him. He knew that it was far from healthy but what the hell, he began picking at the saucy bowl in front of him.
“Oh, ho! Haven’t seen you here since... well, for a long time anyway. Still the regular, right?” Samson grinned at Reinen. His teeth spoken of dentures. Reinen nodded and Ole Sam deftly poured him a pint from one of the many gleaming taps.
“How you been? Heard you’re doing pretty well for yourself. Can’t say it’d be hard, seeing as you’re a doctor an’ all. Old Greg Cummins said your brother’s wife just had another baby. Good to hear...” Samson rambled on. Reinen sipped his beer, nodding when appropriate, then the inevitable question, “What brings you in tonight?”
“It’s my birthday.” Reinen replied. Sam laughed uproariously.
“Well, then boy! I gotta get you something special! You’re drink’s free. Lemme get Martha to make you something. Martha!” He called through a tiny window behind the bar into the kitchen to the mythic Martha, who Reinen had never really seen, except glimpses through the tiny window. “Make the young doctor something nice!” Samson turned back and continued his artful small talk. Shortly a little paper bowl filled to the brim with fries and sauces appeared in the window. Sam placed the steaming, greasy, dripping concoction in front of Reinen. He rummaged under the counter and emerged with a tiny flag on a toothpick. “Ain’t got any candles...” He said and jammed the flag into the food like an explorer claiming a mountain. Reinen thanked him and stared doubtfully at the fries. His stomach grumbled at him. He knew that it was far from healthy but what the hell, he began picking at the saucy bowl in front of him.
No comments:
Post a Comment