Brinkhurst.com

Jessica walks away, right out of the restaurant, while I am paying the bill. What do I do? I sit there thinking. Do I run after her? Do I let her go? Do I call her now, later, in a few days?

“Hey, are you coming?”

“Jessica, I thought you had left.”

“I was just waiting outside for you. Hurry up. I don’t have all day.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Jessica and I start walking. It occurred to me that neither of us knew where we were headed.

“So, where are we going?” Jessica asked.

“Do you have your passport on you?”

“Uh, no!”

“OK, did you want to pick it up?”

“Maybe we should stay local for today.”

“How about the library?”

“You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

“I mean, cause I wanna figure out the significance of the goose. Is it symbolic of something, or does Jeff just like to punish innocent animals for eternity?”

“It’s Jeff Miller. I would definitely guess the innocent animals thing.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“I used to be a lawyer for ‘The Quest.’ Jeff never said anything about the goose, but it didn’t always have the dollar bill around its neck. I stopped working for them the very same day that Jeff put the money on the goose.”

“Does it represent stolen money or embezzled money?”

“No. It might represent something I can’t talk about, lawyer client privileged.”

“To the library?”

“Nobody goes to the library anymore. Just look the goose up on your phone.”

“I don’t have a cell phone.”

“You are different,” Jessica said with an intrigued tone.

She pulled out her phone, searched for ‘goose’ then ‘goose dollar bill’ then ‘goose bling,’ nothing. She wants me to find out. She wants to tell the world.

“I understand that you’re obligated not to say anything. I know a guy who is good at getting info. He’ll be able to tell me everything I need to know about Jeff.”

Jessica paused for a moment before saying anything.

“What frees me will only harm you,” she uttered.

Jessica stared at me, afraid, defensive. The next words out of her mouth won’t be honest, not with that look on her face.

“Matt, I don’t know anything about some white goose.”

“You do. I’m not going to question you about it. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”

“Why did you bring up the goose?”

“Look, Jess, I thought it was odd. I didn’t know that it meant something to you. I just wanted to know what it was about.”

“So . . . your interview was with Miller?”

“Yeah, I told you about it. I told you about Jeff.”

She looks at me. Her face is saying, no, and she is sure of it.

“You told me about Jeff, but you never said his name.”

I stare at Jessica, unsure what to do next, what to say next. I flag down the waitress.

“Check please?”

With shock in her eyes, Jessica looks at me.

“You . . .”

“Jess, I know this an awkward moment, but that’s all right. Two strong people can get past an awkward moment. I’m not trying to call you out on anything. If you want to tell me that you don’t know anything about the goose until you’re red in the face, that’s fine. We’ll go with that. It doesn’t really mean anything to me anyway, so what do I care? I like you, and I’m happy to be here with you. You tell me what you want our next adventure to be.”

“Are you asking me on a second date?”

“No. I’m asking what you want to do now. Right now.”

“I have to get back to work.”

Her face seems sincere. She’s not fidgeting at all, and she looks a bit sad. She doesn’t want to get back. She’s telling the truth about having to though.

“Reshuffle your schedule. We’ll spend the afternoon together.”

“It’s only Monday. I don’t want to start changing things now. The rest of my week will be all thrown off.”

“You’ll never really get to know someone without spending time with him.”

I see the uncertain look on her face, so I reach over and kiss her on the lips, but I’m interrupted by the waitress.

“Sorry guys. Here’s your bill.”

The menus came, and 45 minutes after we were ready to order, the waitress came by. I’ll never understand why it always takes longer to get food when a restaurant isn’t busy.

“Are you ready to order?”

The waitress directs her attention to Jessica.

“Can I get the Chicken Souvlaki Platter?”

“And, for yourself?” the waitress asks me.

“I’ll have the same, but if you could hold the rice and bread, that would be great.”

“Would you like extra salad or potatoes?”

“Sure. Whatever you can spare. Thanks. Oh, can we also get a bottle of red, please?

“You got it.”

The waitress left, and Jessica had an inquisitive look on her face. I need to see what that’s about.

“Do you want to ask me something?”

“You don’t eat grains?”

“I’m not militant about it, but I try not to.”

“But you eat potatoes?”

“Yeah. I eat lots of carbs – just not grains. The food I eat all has high nutrient value.”

“So, what do you eat for carbs?”

“Potatoes, beans, fruit, and anything else that isn’t grass like.”

“Matt, you’re an interesting guy. You have, sort of a way about you, don’t you?”

I smile.

“Yes. I do.”

The waitress pours our drinks, and we drink, and we drink, and we eat. A question burned in my brain, and Jessica is smart; she could help me think it through.

“Why would a dollar bill be around a dead goose’s neck?”

At that moment, Jessica clumsily spilled her wine across the table. I jolted up to stop it from spilling on me. Her hands were covered as she tried to clean it up, but it was just too much. She couldn’t clean it. The table, chairs, and floor were covered in a deep burgundy. Her hand shakes, and she isn’t embarrassed. There is no laughter, no red face, and no looking away from anyone. She looks distant. She’s upset.

The waitress came by and cleaned, fast, without a trace left behind.

“So . . . Jessica. Dollar bill?”

“What?”

“Why would a dead goose be wearing a dollar bill around its neck?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes. You do.”

Jessica and I settled on going for Greek food, which suited me just fine. It’s great food, and you always get a ton of it. On the way to the restaurant, I told her all about the interview.

“The secretary walked in on you, just standing there naked?” Jessica asked.

“Yeah, Kayla, the Executive Assistant. It was weird and awkward.”

“Do you realize what she would have thought?”

“No. I wondered though.”

“Well, Matt, think about it. The boss comes out, tells the secretary to schedule a second interview with you. She walks in and sees you naked.”

“Right, weird, no doubt, but what was she thinking?”

“She was thinking that you got the second interview because you were naked. She thinks you were doing something sexual for the boss. Nobody randomly gets naked because they don’t want to get hired.”

“Well, I did. It’s effective.”

“It’s not all that effective. You got the second interview, not the job though.”

“I’ll get the job.”

“I think your predictions are off. How far do you think you’ll get with me?”

“I’ll kiss you before we sit down for lunch, on the lips. My hand will gently stroke your face, moving it down to the base of your neck and up the back of your head, running my fingers through your hair.”

She is silent, just staring at me, so I take action, and our lips come together so perfectly. I’m not sure what this feeling is, but it’s more than just lust. It’s amazing.

We’re now at the restaurant “Αγάπη.” I have no idea what that means, but this is a tiny little restaurant that couldn’t seat more than about 10 people. The maître d’ comes over; he is dressed well, hair perfectly combed, and he has a very serious look on his face. He’s very tightly wound. Jessica’s eyes are traveling back and forth between his face and crotch, as though she is trying not to look at his pant area. His zipper is open, and his tucked in shirt is escaping through it. Interestingly, he isn’t wearing underwear. That is a bit more that I needed to see.

“Is there a particular table you would like?”

Now I’m staring at his pants. I bring my eyes up long enough to utter a few words.

“Can we please get a table near the window? Oh, your fly is open.”

He zips up his pants and shows us to our table.

“That’s amazing. You can just speak your mind like that,” Jessica said while she reaches her hand across the table.

I don’t know why her hand is in the middle of the table, but it seems like she is trying to engage me. I reach across the table, put my hand over her hand, looking into her eyes, and I smile.

“I try to always be me, nothing special about that. Right?”

On my way out of the office, I see the beautiful lawyer lady. Do I call out to her? Do I let her walk by? I walk quickly in front of her, opening the door to the outside world. I feel, a bit, like the gate keeper. I say nothing.

“Thank you Matthew. You are quite the gentleman.”

“I’m a sucker for lawyers,” I say, while following her out the door.

“Really? I thought you were a sucker for pretty women.”

“Nope. The fact that you are overflowing with feminine sexuality and your face is so pretty that it is sometimes difficult to look at has no effect on me at me at all. It’s definitely the lawyer thing. That just starts the hell out of my engine.”

“Really? So, not matter what a lawyer looked like you would be interested in her.”

“Her? No, any lawyer, man, woman – heck, even if scientists started breeding super intelligent dogs to become lawyers, I would date them.”

“You would date a dog?”

“Absolutely. The last lawyer I dated was a 300 pound bald man, who was five foot two and had hair all over his back, none on his chest though – very odd.”

“So what ended that relationship?”

“Well, although he was a spark plug in the bedroom, he always wanted to be on top. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not so selfish that I always have to be the dominant one, but nobody should have a 300 pound man on top of him, especially one that constantly sweats.”

“Gross.”

“The sweat didn’t bother me too much. In fact, I quite like how agile he was. For a 90 year old 300 pound man, he sure could give me a full body buzz.”

“90, wow, you are open minded.”

“Indeed. Comedy aside, what are you doing for lunch?”

“Lunch? Um, I hadn’t thought about it; it’s only 11am.”

“Sure, but by the time we get there, sit down, have a couple of drinks and order, we will be well into lunch time.”

“I . . .”

“Jessica, I sense the pause, but I know you wanted to go out with me, and now it doesn’t have to be tonight, on a weeknight. I’ll buy lunch. At this time of day, we can get a table anywhere.”

“All right. I guess we have to celebrate your new job anyway.”

She looked at me inquisitively, wondering if I really got the job.

“I’ll tell you all about it on the way to the restaurant. Do you feel like walking?”

“Sure.”

I look down at her feet; she is wearing running shoes, interesting.

I’m sitting, completely naked, waiting for the arrogant bastard to come back in the room, so I can show him exactly where I want him to shove the job. My eyes scan the room as I’m waiting for Diamond Smile Jeff. I see a stuffed and mounted white goose sitting on a pedestal. If taxidermy wasn’t the ultimate FU to this once lively animal, it was further demeaned by wearing a single dollar bill around its neck. The door opens slowly; he came back much sooner than I thought he would. I get a little excited about how screwed up this is, but that’s all right, anything to add to the shock value. Kayla, the Executive Assistant, slides through the door, no Jeff. Her eyes pop wide open as she quickly forces the door closed behind her.

“Matthew, Mr. Miller asked that we schedule a second interview. When you’re ready, please gather your things, and we can schedule something at my desk.”

“Uh, K.”

She leaves, this time barely opening the door, just enough to slink out and close it behind her. It’s amazing how composed she was walking into a room with a naked man who had a semi.

I’m putting all my clothes back on, for good measure. What should I say to Kayla? I’m feeling that a possible awkward moment might come up. I’ll try to make it quick and painless. I open the door to go to Kayla’s desk. She doesn’t look busy, but she probably wants me gone as soon as possible.

“Mr. Miller apologizes for his emergency exit. Are you able to meet tomorrow at 10am?”

“Sure.”

“OK, great. We’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Thanks,” I awkwardly utter.

Kayla must wonder why I was naked. What does she think?

Now looking into Jeff’s eyes, I see that there is a real person, behind the perfectly manicured nails, whitened teeth, excessive cologne, and “store bought hair cut,” but Jeff is not about to let his true self show to me. He is doing that thing where he wants me to speak first. It’s a power and dominance thing. He called an interview with me, and he obviously has a ton of questions for me, yet here he is staring, thinking I’m going to break his awkward silence. He doesn’t realize that I have no intention of working for a flaming bag of douche, and I would rather live in a box on the street than succumb to a mind that is so simple to believe sitting here in silence is going to somehow achieve something in his favor. I see the look on old “Diamond Smile” Jeff’s face, and he is ready to concede.

“Matthew, the reason I asked you here . . .”

Jeff turns away from me to look at his massive computer screen. He is pretending that he has some important business on there, but he isn’t responding back, and his eyes aren’t moving as though they are reading. He stares at me again as he gets ready to speak.

“Sorry where were we?”

“You were going to tell me why I was asked here.”

“Oh! Right!”

Jeff certainly has the liar thing down, but I can tell that he’s insincere. He wants me to believe that I’m not really needed here; he wants me to want him, but I’m needed – I’m the expert, so I’ll wait for him to speak again.

“Matthew, the reason I asked you here was because you come highly recommended by Charles, a business contact that I trust. He carries great weight with me, but what I need to know from you is, can you commit? Do you believe in ‘The Quest’ and the great value that it brings to the world?”

“Uh, Jeff, my understanding of ‘The Quest’ is that it’s a large marketing agency with high paying corporate clients, and I’m being interviewed as the social media expert, so as far as . . .”

Jeff gets up.

“Sorry Matt, hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”

This is garbage. I’m not putting up with this. He’s walking out now. I can see how he does so well, spending his day pretending to be busy. There is only one sure way to really let this guy know that I won’t be a part of this corporate crap, so I start getting naked. Diamond Smile Jeff will be quite surprised when he gets back.

Inside the office, I wait. I’m sitting across from a woman at a secretary’s desk; she has a brushed steel name plate that reads “Kayla Martin, Executive Assistant.” Kayla has a rather conservative looking pant suit on, but she wears 6 inch high heels and leaves the top two buttons on her blouse open. Her makeup doesn’t bring out her beauty; it brings out her sexuality. Her lips are bright and highlighted in pink, and she wears some sort of sparkling make up on her cheeks. I don’t smell perfume though, no perfume. Her eyes smile as though she wants every man she sees, even though she doesn’t. She is trying to fit in but she doesn’t. She’s not from the corporate world; she comes from somewhere else.

“Matthew, Mr. Miller is ready for you.”

Kayla escorts me in to the office, where I see Mr. Miller pretending to finish up some work. He made me wait, not long enough where I would be annoyed but long enough so that I know he is important enough to wait for.

“Thank you Kayla,” Mr. Miller says with a big toothy bright smile.

“Hi, I’m Matthew.”

I offer up my hand. He grabs it. His hand shake is firm but not too firm, almost perfect. He actually shakes my hand up and down but only slightly. He stares at my hand the whole time. Mr. Miller practices his hand shake, and he’s checking his work, making sure it’s fined tuned, perfect.

“Matthew, I’m Jeff.”

Jeff ushers me over to his desk, gesturing his hand as though he wants me to sit across from him, but he won’t sit, not until I do.

“Boy, boy?”

“I’m no boy. Are you talking to me?”

“Boy, don’t go in there. They take souls.”

“You smell of vomit and alcohol; your clothes are ripped and stained, and your hair is matted on one side with blood and food. Do you need help?”

The man’s eyes are vacant, probably a result of dementia. For an old man, he is quick, running off.

“I think he spotted me,” a woman says out of nowhere.

“Wow. You are beautiful.”

“Thank you. You don’t really have a filter do you?”

Her skin is pale white, and she has dark black hair. She is thin, almost too thin, but she is petite, not starved.

“I’m honest. I tell people how I feel.”

“Oh. What’s the difference?”

“If I had no filter, I would tell you how your medium sized chest looks enormous on your small frame. I would tell you that I’m staring so closely into your eyes because I can’t look away; I’m melting.”

She doesn’t look at all phased by my words. She smiles at me, a sweet and intrigued smile.

“Your honesty won’t get you far here. That homeless man might be crazy, but he’s right.”

She’s telling the truth. She hates something about this place.

“My honest personality got me to this front door. Now I’m going inside, and I’m going to get this job. Then, tonight, you and I are going for drinks.”

“It’s a Monday. I don’t go out on Monday nights.”

“Really? I live everyday of my life, everyday. Do you have a card? I’ll call you later.”

She hands me her card as though she is a bit angry with me.

“Jessica, LLD,” I read aloud off her card. “I’m Matthew,” I say while extending my hand.

“I’m here to represent my client who plans on suing ‘The Quest,’ your future employer,” she says while grabbing my hand with an evil smile on her face.

If you are omniscient like some narrators, you see all and know all. Let’s look at the different types of narrators and discuss. There are three basic types of narrators.

1. First Person – a narrator who is also a character in the story.
2. Second Person – a narrator who makes the reader a character in the story.
3. Third Person – a narrator who sees the story but is not a part of it.

First Person

Usually a first person narrative is not omniscient. Since the narrator is in the story, it is more common that she would only be able to tell you about what is going on in front of her. In some cases, you would get a first person omniscient narrator. Since this narrator sees all, she could tell you about what is in front of her and what is going on when she is not around. See the two First Person examples below.

Not Omnicient
I see Henry and Jane walking into the washroom together; they shut the door behind them, and I am stuck outside, hoping they are not doing what I think they are doing.

Omnicient
I see Henry and Jane walking into the washroom together; they shut the door behind them, and I am stuck outside. Henry grabs Jane by the hips, and she thrusts herself towards him. He is a bit rough, grabbing her face and pulling it towards him. She motions towards him, about to kiss him, but then she grabs the hair on the back of his head and pushes him down to his knees, and I will forever be devastated.

Second Person

Second Person narrative can’t be omniscient, since the reader can’t know all and see all. See the Second Person omniscient free example below.

Not Omnicient
You see Henry and Jane walking into the washroom together; they shut the door behind them, and you are stuck outside, hoping they are not doing what you think they are doing.

Third Person

Usually a Third Person narrative is omniscient. Since the narrator is in the story, it is more common that she would be able to tell you about everything in the story. In some cases, you would get a third person narrator who is not omniscient. See the two Third Person examples below.

Not Omnicient
Henry and Jane are walking into the washroom together; they shut the door behind them. Who knows what is going on behind those doors?

Omnicient
Henry and Jane are walking into the washroom together; they shut the door behind them. Henry grabs Jane by the hips, and she thrusts herself towards him. He is a bit rough, grabbing her face and pulling it towards him. She motions towards him, about to kiss him, but then she grabs the hair on the back of his head and pushes him down to his knees.