Remembering What You Said

"It's you," he said. "It's you I've been waiting for all these years . Is that why I've been so miserable? So this moment could feel that much better? If that's the truth, then I wholeheartedly agree."

Sweet just ain't as sweet > Bitter

Today will feature another excerpt from the novel/novella, Last Dance. This distinct section will be one of the most inspired parts of the book, where the main character lashes out in a tirade of seemingly endless good intentions. But what is he looking for/escaping?

Before Fisher steps out of the cab, an idea strikes him. He acts.

“Hey, you want to come eat with me inside? I’ll need some advice on the best items, you know.”

The cabbie, who for just a bit will remain nameless, is shocked. No one ever asks him to do stuff after cab rides, not even in his wildest dreams. But it just so happens that this is the end of his shift and part of the reason he mentioned the bakery was that it was close to the cab station and his home. Though tired from a day of driving, he isn’t the kind of man to turn down an interesting opportunity like this. He parks the cab and gets out.

“The BEST… is what I’m sworn to deliver.”

Fisher chuckles and smiles. The cabbie chuckles and smiles. They head inside.

Fisher hangs back while the cabbie orders them each a vegetable roll stuffed with an assortment of, well, vegetables. During this, he notices a tattoo on the back of the cabbie’s left arm. It is the ocean, featuring a sinking ship with Japanese and American flags intertwined in a design on the hull. The colors are beautiful and vibrant. They seem to invoke the image of a sunrise: the end of the night and the new beginnings that follow. Soon enough, the cabbie finishes the order and leads Fisher to a table while carrying the food. They sit down at a booth.

Dennis. Good ol’ Dennis. That is the cabbie’s name, and now that Fisher gets a clear look at his face, he can tell that he is in fact half-asian, half-european. He’s not too old either, probably mid-thirties, wearing a v-neck complete with a pocket and a notebook sticking out of it. Not exactly someone you’d expect to be a cabbie. The two unlikely dining partners don’t talk for a while, busying themselves with bites from the vegetable roll and drinks from glasses of Cheerwine. Occasionally they make eye contact but quickly glance elsewhere. Finally, the silence is broken by Fisher.

“Your tattoo. What does it mean?”

“Oh… yeah. But don’t you want to know my name first? It’s Dennis.”

“Uh. Yeah, guess that’s important. I’m Fisher.” They shake hands.

Enchante. The tattoo represents my two grandfathers who fought in World War II against each other - One on the American side, and the other on the Japanese. They both died in the same battle, sinking into the ocean with their comrades and never knowing their families would be one day united in love. This tattoo is a testament to human’s ability to forgive, forgetting the sins of the past and uniting as a race. That is beautiful to me.

The novel is almost at 7,000 pages and still rambling along. I have some short stories ideas I would like to start working on soon, too. Rest assured, there will be some writing.

Adieu, mon ami.