We had a very busy unit in English during Narrative II! In this unit we accomplished: three short stories, a book jacket blurb and bio, a Surrealist artist presentation, three Blink quick writes, and a Blink-inspired essay. As I mentioned earlier, the three short stories are all the same story, they are just from different perspectives. The book jacket blurb and bio were for the book jacket we made in Design class. The Blink unit (a subunit of the Narrative II unit) was based upon the book, “Blink” by Malcolm Gladwell that we read for class, which discussed multiple psychological phenomenon that happen in the brain during the first two-seconds of making a snap decision. During the Blink unit, we did some automatic writing to various prompts and created zen tangles and other experimental art in Design class.
Please click on each of the tabs above to view each of the perspectives of my short stories. Each tab is labeled as the style in which the version was written. Enjoy, “The Bench”.
“Excuse me, Sir, is this seat taken?” A man of thick black frames and a sleek suit stares expectantly back at Steven. The man looked to be about 30 years his junior. “Not at all, Son, please have a seat.” Steven retrieves his briefcase from his side and repositions it between his feet. The young man exhales deeply, crosses his legs and gently reclines his posture to a more comfortable position-settling in for the 45 minute wait. “Of all the days to have a delayed train, am I right?” The man wryly chuckles. “You look like you’re running for Congress, Son. Where are you off to in such a rush?” “I’ll take that as a compliment, Sir. I actually have a job interview in Evanston. An accounting firm.” “Ah, a money man. What kind of accounting do you practice, if you don’t mind my asking?” The young man removes his glasses and gently massages the lenses against the end of his suit jacket. He exhales deeply. “Tax accounting. March and April are hell, but the rest of the time, I spend with my family. I have a new mouth to feed, so money is pretty tight right now. If all goes well with my interview today, that should no longer be a serious concern.” “Well, as I’ve been in your seat once before, I’d say to you to spend as much time with your young one as much as possible, but be sure to actually feed that kid, Son.” The two chuckled. “That’s something I wish I had done more of when I was your age. You’ll blink and then they’ll out on their own, looking for a job, and trying to feed their own family. Time flies, time flies.” Steven reached his arm and gave the man two sturdy pats on the back. The gesture seemed vaguely familiar.
The young man’s grin stared back at Steven, who knew he had laid eyes on that grin once before. Have I seen him at the dentist? Was he an intern at the Tribune? Steven contemplated the various locations in which he could’ve run into this young man before. “My legs are falling asleep, Son. I’m going to walk them off. Watch my briefcase?” “My pleasure, Sir.” Steven gradually peeled himself off the sticky bench and meandered his way away from the bench with his palm pressed against his mouth. In a moment of confusion and astonishment, he turned back to examine the young man. Those eyes of blue sapphires and his chiseled jawline. The ears of his Mother’s, and a bridge in his nose that was identical to his own. These floating impressions could not attach to form coherent thoughts in Steven’s mind. Mixed emotions and restless legs guided him back to the bench. Just breathe. Breathing’s normal, Steven. He angled his body towards the young man and managed half a wave in his direction. The young man peered his eyes above the top of today’s Tribune and flashed him a gentle smile. Do I ask him about the weather now? We’re in Chicago and it’s damn hot. There’s not much else to say. Don’t say that. Steven removed the line of sweat that was suspended over his lips; just open your mouth and say something to him.
“Attention all patrons of the Chicago Union Station, the 3:10pm train to Evanston is now boarding. We apologize for any delays or inconveniences and we thank you for choosing the Union.”
The young man wrestled his newspaper in half and promptly leaped to his feet to collect himself. He extended his hand to Steven. “It’s been a pleasure, Sir. Have a nice one.” Steven arose to say his farewells to the young man. Make him stay. Say something. Say something now. Now. “Oh no really, the pleasure’s been all mine. I wish you the very best, Son.” The young man latched onto his briefcase and headed towards the boarding area.
He watched him fade into the sea of travelers, becoming more like an ant with every step. A crystal tear ran down Steven’s rosey cheek. He did not wipe it away. Steven opened his mouth once more, lips trembling, and knees wobbling.
“Goodbye, Son”.
“Excuse me, Sir, is this seat taken?” A man of thick black frames and a sleek suit, staring expectantly back at me. This man looks to be about 30 years my junior. “Not at all Son, please have a seat”. I repositioned my briefcase between my feet. The young man said, “Of all the days to have a delayed train, am I right?” I wryly chuckle. “You look like you’re running for Congress, Son. Where are you off to in such a rush?” The man replied, “I’ll take that as a compliment Sir. I actually have a job interview in Evanston. An accounting firm.” The young man exhaled deeply, crossed his legs and gently reclined his posture to a more comfortable position-settling in for the 45 minute wait. I reach out my arm and give the man two sturdy pats on the back. The young man chuckles in response. This man reminds me of myself, slightly intriguing, I think to myself. “What’s your story-you have a family or special lady, Son?” The young man glances over at me and sarcastically replies with, “Don’t I wish. I’m currently taking care of my Mother, which occupies a good sum of my time. It’s only the two of us right now, you know? Her husband - my father - was out of the picture when I was just shy of a year old. She raised me-all on her own and I owe her the world.” “You seem like one of the good ones, Son.” The young man’s grin stared back at me. I’ve seen him before....Have I seen him at the dentist? Was he an intern at the Tribune? “My legs are falling asleep, Son. I’m going to walk them off. Watch my briefcase?” “My pleasure, Sir.” said the young man. I peeled myself off the sticky bench and meandered away from the bench with my palm pressed against my mouth. In a moment of confusion and astonishment, I turned back to examine the young man. Those eyes of blue sapphires and his chiseled jawline. The ears of his Mother’s, and a bridge in his nose that was identical to his own. I assumed I would never see him again after he left all those years ago. I’ve just met my son. Just breathe. Breathing’s normal, Steven. I angle my body towards the young man and manage half a wave in his direction. The young man peered his eyes above the top of today’s Tribune and flashed me a gentle smile. Do I ask him about the weather now? We’re in Chicago and it’s damn hot. There’s not much else to say. Don’t say that. I removed the line of sweat that was suspended over his lips; just open your mouth and say something to him.
“Attention all patrons of the Chicago Union Station, the 3:10pm train to Evanston is now boarding. We apologize for any delays or inconveniences and we thank you for choosing the Union.”
The young man wrestled his newspaper in half and promptly leaped to his feet to collect himself. He extended his hand out to me. “Nice meeting you, Sir. Have a nice one.” I arose to say his farewells to the young man. Make him stay. Say something. Say something now. Now. “The pleasure’s been all mine. I wish you the very best, Son.” The young man latched onto his briefcase and headed towards the boarding area.
I watched him fade into the sea of travelers, becoming more like an ant with every step. A crystal tear ran down my rosey cheek. I did not wipe it away. I stood there, paralyzed, in front of the bench where I had reunited with his Son after some 30 odd years. I open my mouth once more, lips trembling, and knees wobbling.
“Goodbye, Son”.
“Excuse me, Sir, is this seat taken?” I glanced down at a man who looked to be about 30 years my senior. He gently smiled back at me, “Not at all Son, please have a seat”. He repositioned his briefcase between his feet, so I could have a seat next to him. Wanting to break the ice, I jokingly said, “Of all the days to have a delayed train, am I right?” The man inspected me up and down. “You look like you’re running for Congress, Son. Where are you off to in such a rush?” He thinks I look sharp. I’ll nail this interview. “I’ll take that as a compliment Sir. I actually have a job interview in Evanston. An accounting firm.” I exhaled deeply, thinking about what lies ahead for me as I cross my legs and gently recline my posture to a more comfortable position. I better settle in for the 45 minute wait. The man extends his hand and gives me two sturdy pats on the back. A familiar gesture from which the two of us let out a subtle chuckle. I wonder what the firm is going to ask me? I have a copy of my resume, but will one copy be enough? What if they need three copies? Oh jeez, what were you thinking? My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the man who curiously asked me, “What’s your story-you have a family or special lady, Son?” Talking about my family at a time like this? I have to prepare. Answer him, then go over your notes. I glanced over at the man and replied, “Don’t I wish. I’m currently taking care of my Mother, which occupies a good sum of my time. It’s only the two of us right now, you know? Her husband - my father - was out of the picture when I was just shy of a year old. She raised me-all on her own and I owe her the world.” I promptly returned my attention to my briefcase and resumed going through my papers. “You seem like one of the good ones, Son.” I flashed the man a wide grin. I don’t quite know what happened next, but the older man got a dazed look in his eye. He then muttered, “My legs are falling asleep, Son. I’m going to walk them off. Watch my briefcase?” Of course I responded with, “My pleasure, Sir.” Now I have a minute or two to myself to refocus. He peeled himself off the sticky bench and meandered away from me. I glanced up to see him staring at me. How odd, I thought to myself. You say you’re going to walk off your legs and all I see is him looking me up and down. People in this town are weird.
“Attention all patrons of the Chicago Union Station, the 3:10pm train to Evanston is now boarding. We apologize for any delays or inconveniences and we thank you for choosing the Union.”
Well that’s my queue. I wrestled my newspaper in half and leaped to my feet to collect my things. Wanting to be friendly, I extended my hand out to the man. “Nice meeting you, Sir. Have a nice one.” He arose to say his farewells - you’d think we’re married or something. “The pleasure’s been all mine. I wish you the very best, Son.” I latched onto my briefcase and headed towards the boarding area. You’re just 30 minutes away from the biggest interview of your life. You deserve this. You deserve this.
I handed the attendant my ticket, swallowed deeply, and stepped into the train.
Here we go.