Author's Note: here's chapter three, from David's POV. And thank you all
for you reviews!! I truly appreciate it, and I'm really glad you're
enjoying the story. I'm having lots of fun with it, and if you haven't
figured it out by now, the story's inspired by romantic comedies like When
Harry Met Sally, Serendipity (of course), and The Shop Around the Corner (a
classic film starring Jimmy Stewart).
Please read and review, it really means much to me to see what you think about my evolving little story. I know how it's all going to end, but I'm still figuring out how to get there! Let me know, especially, what elements of the story that you really enjoyed, so I have a better sense of what resonates with the reader. Thanks!
_____________________________________________________________________
David entered his hotel room, set down his bags and immediately headed to the room desk. He set his laptop on the desk, turned it on, and then flopped into the desk chair. It was 12:30 a.m., but he still wanted to work through some ideas he had for his film. As producer, director, and screenwriter, he knew he had a monumental task ahead of him if he was going to succeed in bringing his vision to cinematic life.
As he began writing down some ideas on the laptop word processor, he stopped to rub his eyes, and let out a long, loud yawn.
Man, I'm really tired, thought David. But, I really need to get some ideas straight before I meet with the film crew tomorrow morning. I'll just rest my head for a sec, then I'll start writing again.
David put his head next to the laptop, and he started to think about an unusual encounter he had a week ago while he was in Washington D.C. David had been in D.C. to visit his parents, who had moved there right after Gordon had graduated from high school. He was also there for some business meetings, trying to secure additional financing for his film.
**************One Week Ago******************************************
One Sunday afternoon, David was walking in a park, surrounded by memorials of Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and George Washington. He was walking by himself, deep in thought about his movie, and about his friend, Lizzie McGuire. He roamed around the Reflecting Pool, took a quick stroll in and out of the Lincoln Memorial, then found himself sitting on a bench, looking out on a field of kids playing soccer.
He thought he was alone on the bench, but he was wrong. He turned to his right to see an elderly black man sitting next to him. He had dark shades on, a cane in his left hand, and he had on clothes that looked if they had been through many histories and many memories. The man smiled at David and said, "A lot on your mind, son?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess you could say so." The man had a warm, generous smile, and for some inexplicable reason, David felt as if he had known this man all his life.
"Looks like you need someone to do some talkin' with. Tell me what's on your mind, it'll do your soul some good."
David looked at the man's smile, thinking that he reminded him of Ray Charles. What does he have to lose by talking to this guy, thought David.
Why not?
"Well, okay. I don't see the harm in talking with a complete stranger. I'm here in D.C., about to realize my life dream of making my own full length feature film, and the only thing I can think about is my best friend."
"Ahhh, I see. It's a girl, isn't it?"
"You got it, mister. She's this great girl, I've known her forever, but we got into this awful fight over the phone and I haven't talked to her since. I tried calling her, but I only got her voice mail. I asked her roommate, who's a good friend of mine as well, why she wouldn't talk to me and all Miranda would say to me is that Lizzie needed some time and space. Geez, women and their "space." David air-quoted "space," to accentuate his disdain for that term, especially since that word was keeping him away from his best friend.
"Maybe Ms. McGuire does need some space. But, have you ever wondered why she needs some time away from you?"
That's odd, thought David. How did this guy know Lizzie's last name? Did he mention it to him? He shook his head, realizing that he must have done so. He muttered silently in his head, *Gordo, you really need to get some sleep, you can't even remember what you said a few seconds ago.*
"Well, I know why she's not talking to me. She's upset because I hate this guy she's been going out with for a while now. He's one of those slick, pseudo-charming, manipulative jerks who is going to end up really hurting Lizzie. I know it. But, she thinks a real friend should just support her in making a huge mistake with her life." David spoke the last sentence with a clear tinge of anger, resentment, sarcasm, and. . .jealousy.
The man let out a hearty laugh. "Ahhh, so you're jealous!"
Who is this guy? wondered David. The man was saying things that his friend Miranda would often say to him. How did he know what David was feeling in his heart?
"Alright, yeah, you're right. If I'm truly honest with myself, I know I hate Lizzie's boyfriend just because he's *Lizzie's* boyfriend. Gawd I hate that guy!!"
"Well, I know your story, young man, and I know what you're going through. Would you like a piece of advice from someone who's been through this road many a times?"
Look, I already know what you're going to say. You're going to tell me that I should follow my heart, tell Lizzie how I really feel about her, not worry about losing her friendship, and that we're right for each other."
"No, son."
"No?"
"Nope. What I was going to say is, I think your friend Ms. McGuire is right. A good friend would support her in her decisions. It's her life, it's her destiny to make her own mistakes."
"You've got to be kidding me!! I love that woman, mister, with all of my heart, ever since I can remember, and you're telling me I should sit back, do nothing, and let her get hurt?"
"That's exactly what I'm telling you, son. It's time for you to let go."
"No, no, I can't accept that."
"I didn't say doing the right thing would be easy."
"What if I'm right, though? What if this guy ends up hurting Lizzie?"
"Then you'll be there for her when she needs someone to support her and comfort her. That's what friends do. And that's what you would do if you loved someone."
David couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was secretly hoping for some encouragement to act on his feelings for Lizzie, but this man was telling him everything his heart didn't want to hear. Yet, what the man said rang so. . .true.
"I know what I'm saying must be hard for you to listen to, but, don't you worry, son, have faith in the unknown, have faith in life. There's a reason, a time, for everything, you just don't know it yet. You'll know what to do when the time is right."
"Yeah, I guess. Well, I should be going back home. Thanks for listening to me, mister. I really appreciate it. You were right, as hard it was to hear what you had to say, I feel like I have much more clarity now about me and Lizzie." David smiled at the man, who responded with a wide, mischievous grin.
:"You don't know the half of it, son. There's plenty of surprises and wonders in store for you, young man."
"ummm. . . great?!?!"
"One thing before you go, son."
"Yes?"
"Do you believe in destiny?"
What kind of question is that? "Uh, I guess. Maybe. No. Not really. Sort of."
"Well, I do. And I know your destiny, son."
"You do?" This guy must be senile, thought David. A really nice guy, but senile, nonetheless.
"And for you to fulfill one glorious part of your destiny, there's one thing you need to know."
"Uhhh, oh-kay. And that is?"
"Pancakes with huckleberry syrup."
"Uhhh, are you feeling okay, mister?" What was thing guy talking about??? And what in the world is huckleberry syrup? He had never heard of it before.
"Pancakes with huckleberry syrup. That's all you need to know, son."
"Okay then! I've really got to go! Thanks for the chat, mister! I really mean it." David got up, shook the man's hand, and walked away from the park bench.
As he was walking away, he heard the man behind his back yell to him, "Take good care of yourself, David Gordon. And remember, pancakes and huckleberry syrup."
David stopped dead in his tracks. Now I *know* I hadn't told the guy my name. What in the world was going on, David wondered? David whirled around, saw the park bench that he had just been sitting on, and saw that it was empty. There was no sight of the man he had been talking to for the last half-hour. He looked all around the park. No elderly black gentlemen as far as the naked eye could see. Where did the guy disappear to? Did he just imagine everything?
**********************************************************
David awoke from his semi-conscious nap. He looked at the clock; it read 1:00 a.m.
He took his head off the desk, shook his head, yawned, and prepared to start writing again. As he stared into his laptop computer screen, he suddenly realized how hungry he was. He had flown in from D.C., and he had nothing to eat all day but a bagle with cream cheese and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
He took out the hotel room service menu, and started to flip through its pages. He hoped that they were still delivering room service. He read the menu and saw that the hotel had 24 hour room service, serving breakfast, lunch, and dinner around the clock. Great!
David pored through the menu, looking over ever single item. David *loved* food, and he loved nothing more than to browse a menu to see all of his culinary options.
Sushi? Filet mignon? Steak and eggs? What would he have this night, David wondered. Maybe some beef tartar? Or some lamb curry? Or maybe a good ol' fashion hamburger, with curly fries, of course.
. . .Or, or, just maybe, just maybe, he'll have some pancakes with huckleberry syrup. David's jaw dropped as he saw a special item on the hotel menu:
***The menu read, *Our Hotel Speciality: We serve a steaming short-stack of fluffy buttermilk pancakes along with our special, award winning, home- made, one of a kind, huckleberry syrup. A unique San Francisco treat! $7.95.***
He remembered very well the last words spoken to him by the old man on the park bench. Pancakes and huckleberry syrup! David hadn't believed in destiny and fate before, but now he was starting to reconsider his old beliefs.
The menu said that the hotel served breakfast 24 hours a day. David, in a state of semi-shock, slowly picked up the phone, dialed room service, and ordered a plate of pancakes with huckleberry syrup.
Please read and review, it really means much to me to see what you think about my evolving little story. I know how it's all going to end, but I'm still figuring out how to get there! Let me know, especially, what elements of the story that you really enjoyed, so I have a better sense of what resonates with the reader. Thanks!
_____________________________________________________________________
David entered his hotel room, set down his bags and immediately headed to the room desk. He set his laptop on the desk, turned it on, and then flopped into the desk chair. It was 12:30 a.m., but he still wanted to work through some ideas he had for his film. As producer, director, and screenwriter, he knew he had a monumental task ahead of him if he was going to succeed in bringing his vision to cinematic life.
As he began writing down some ideas on the laptop word processor, he stopped to rub his eyes, and let out a long, loud yawn.
Man, I'm really tired, thought David. But, I really need to get some ideas straight before I meet with the film crew tomorrow morning. I'll just rest my head for a sec, then I'll start writing again.
David put his head next to the laptop, and he started to think about an unusual encounter he had a week ago while he was in Washington D.C. David had been in D.C. to visit his parents, who had moved there right after Gordon had graduated from high school. He was also there for some business meetings, trying to secure additional financing for his film.
**************One Week Ago******************************************
One Sunday afternoon, David was walking in a park, surrounded by memorials of Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and George Washington. He was walking by himself, deep in thought about his movie, and about his friend, Lizzie McGuire. He roamed around the Reflecting Pool, took a quick stroll in and out of the Lincoln Memorial, then found himself sitting on a bench, looking out on a field of kids playing soccer.
He thought he was alone on the bench, but he was wrong. He turned to his right to see an elderly black man sitting next to him. He had dark shades on, a cane in his left hand, and he had on clothes that looked if they had been through many histories and many memories. The man smiled at David and said, "A lot on your mind, son?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess you could say so." The man had a warm, generous smile, and for some inexplicable reason, David felt as if he had known this man all his life.
"Looks like you need someone to do some talkin' with. Tell me what's on your mind, it'll do your soul some good."
David looked at the man's smile, thinking that he reminded him of Ray Charles. What does he have to lose by talking to this guy, thought David.
Why not?
"Well, okay. I don't see the harm in talking with a complete stranger. I'm here in D.C., about to realize my life dream of making my own full length feature film, and the only thing I can think about is my best friend."
"Ahhh, I see. It's a girl, isn't it?"
"You got it, mister. She's this great girl, I've known her forever, but we got into this awful fight over the phone and I haven't talked to her since. I tried calling her, but I only got her voice mail. I asked her roommate, who's a good friend of mine as well, why she wouldn't talk to me and all Miranda would say to me is that Lizzie needed some time and space. Geez, women and their "space." David air-quoted "space," to accentuate his disdain for that term, especially since that word was keeping him away from his best friend.
"Maybe Ms. McGuire does need some space. But, have you ever wondered why she needs some time away from you?"
That's odd, thought David. How did this guy know Lizzie's last name? Did he mention it to him? He shook his head, realizing that he must have done so. He muttered silently in his head, *Gordo, you really need to get some sleep, you can't even remember what you said a few seconds ago.*
"Well, I know why she's not talking to me. She's upset because I hate this guy she's been going out with for a while now. He's one of those slick, pseudo-charming, manipulative jerks who is going to end up really hurting Lizzie. I know it. But, she thinks a real friend should just support her in making a huge mistake with her life." David spoke the last sentence with a clear tinge of anger, resentment, sarcasm, and. . .jealousy.
The man let out a hearty laugh. "Ahhh, so you're jealous!"
Who is this guy? wondered David. The man was saying things that his friend Miranda would often say to him. How did he know what David was feeling in his heart?
"Alright, yeah, you're right. If I'm truly honest with myself, I know I hate Lizzie's boyfriend just because he's *Lizzie's* boyfriend. Gawd I hate that guy!!"
"Well, I know your story, young man, and I know what you're going through. Would you like a piece of advice from someone who's been through this road many a times?"
Look, I already know what you're going to say. You're going to tell me that I should follow my heart, tell Lizzie how I really feel about her, not worry about losing her friendship, and that we're right for each other."
"No, son."
"No?"
"Nope. What I was going to say is, I think your friend Ms. McGuire is right. A good friend would support her in her decisions. It's her life, it's her destiny to make her own mistakes."
"You've got to be kidding me!! I love that woman, mister, with all of my heart, ever since I can remember, and you're telling me I should sit back, do nothing, and let her get hurt?"
"That's exactly what I'm telling you, son. It's time for you to let go."
"No, no, I can't accept that."
"I didn't say doing the right thing would be easy."
"What if I'm right, though? What if this guy ends up hurting Lizzie?"
"Then you'll be there for her when she needs someone to support her and comfort her. That's what friends do. And that's what you would do if you loved someone."
David couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was secretly hoping for some encouragement to act on his feelings for Lizzie, but this man was telling him everything his heart didn't want to hear. Yet, what the man said rang so. . .true.
"I know what I'm saying must be hard for you to listen to, but, don't you worry, son, have faith in the unknown, have faith in life. There's a reason, a time, for everything, you just don't know it yet. You'll know what to do when the time is right."
"Yeah, I guess. Well, I should be going back home. Thanks for listening to me, mister. I really appreciate it. You were right, as hard it was to hear what you had to say, I feel like I have much more clarity now about me and Lizzie." David smiled at the man, who responded with a wide, mischievous grin.
:"You don't know the half of it, son. There's plenty of surprises and wonders in store for you, young man."
"ummm. . . great?!?!"
"One thing before you go, son."
"Yes?"
"Do you believe in destiny?"
What kind of question is that? "Uh, I guess. Maybe. No. Not really. Sort of."
"Well, I do. And I know your destiny, son."
"You do?" This guy must be senile, thought David. A really nice guy, but senile, nonetheless.
"And for you to fulfill one glorious part of your destiny, there's one thing you need to know."
"Uhhh, oh-kay. And that is?"
"Pancakes with huckleberry syrup."
"Uhhh, are you feeling okay, mister?" What was thing guy talking about??? And what in the world is huckleberry syrup? He had never heard of it before.
"Pancakes with huckleberry syrup. That's all you need to know, son."
"Okay then! I've really got to go! Thanks for the chat, mister! I really mean it." David got up, shook the man's hand, and walked away from the park bench.
As he was walking away, he heard the man behind his back yell to him, "Take good care of yourself, David Gordon. And remember, pancakes and huckleberry syrup."
David stopped dead in his tracks. Now I *know* I hadn't told the guy my name. What in the world was going on, David wondered? David whirled around, saw the park bench that he had just been sitting on, and saw that it was empty. There was no sight of the man he had been talking to for the last half-hour. He looked all around the park. No elderly black gentlemen as far as the naked eye could see. Where did the guy disappear to? Did he just imagine everything?
**********************************************************
David awoke from his semi-conscious nap. He looked at the clock; it read 1:00 a.m.
He took his head off the desk, shook his head, yawned, and prepared to start writing again. As he stared into his laptop computer screen, he suddenly realized how hungry he was. He had flown in from D.C., and he had nothing to eat all day but a bagle with cream cheese and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
He took out the hotel room service menu, and started to flip through its pages. He hoped that they were still delivering room service. He read the menu and saw that the hotel had 24 hour room service, serving breakfast, lunch, and dinner around the clock. Great!
David pored through the menu, looking over ever single item. David *loved* food, and he loved nothing more than to browse a menu to see all of his culinary options.
Sushi? Filet mignon? Steak and eggs? What would he have this night, David wondered. Maybe some beef tartar? Or some lamb curry? Or maybe a good ol' fashion hamburger, with curly fries, of course.
. . .Or, or, just maybe, just maybe, he'll have some pancakes with huckleberry syrup. David's jaw dropped as he saw a special item on the hotel menu:
***The menu read, *Our Hotel Speciality: We serve a steaming short-stack of fluffy buttermilk pancakes along with our special, award winning, home- made, one of a kind, huckleberry syrup. A unique San Francisco treat! $7.95.***
He remembered very well the last words spoken to him by the old man on the park bench. Pancakes and huckleberry syrup! David hadn't believed in destiny and fate before, but now he was starting to reconsider his old beliefs.
The menu said that the hotel served breakfast 24 hours a day. David, in a state of semi-shock, slowly picked up the phone, dialed room service, and ordered a plate of pancakes with huckleberry syrup.