Shades of Grey

short story for creative writing class last year;

The faint smell of smoke caught her attention as she drifted through the worn, wooden door. Dark hair dripping down her back, even the dirtiest bar would have been preferable to the downpour outside. Her grey eyes scanned the room, quickly taking in the other patrons--or lack thereof. Sitting behind a beat-up, heavy wooden table furthest from the door, shaded by dim light and a cloud of cigarette smog, was a heavy figure clothed in dark colored flannel. Something about the way he sat was recognizable to her, but she ignored the sense of familiarity and approached the empty hostess stand. 

“Excuse me,” she called, placing a small, pale hand on the oak podium. While she waited, she loosened the red plaid scarf around her neck and unbuttoned her grey, wool pea coat.  

“What can I do ya for?” An older woman, maybe in her mid-thirties, appeared suddenly, one hand on her plump waist. 

“Um, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here?” She fiddled with the buttons on her coat while the older woman, Carol according to her name tag, stared her down. 

“Name?” Carol grabbed a few menus off of the podium, tugging a pen from the frizzy, brown mess of hair on her head. 

“Emily..” murmured Emily, still fiddling with the buttons. “Oh, last name. It should be under Caldwell.” 

“Right this way, honey,” Carol announced, zipping off in the direction of the man with the hidden face. She placed the menus on the table, seemingly pulling silverware out of nowhere and placing it on the table as well. “I can go ahead and get your drink for ya, if ya’d like.” 

“Oh, no thank you,” Emily said politely, “I can wait. My friend will be here soon.” She smiled until Carol finally walked away, tucking the pen back into her hair. 

Once again, Emily’s eyes wandered around the small diner, taking note of the small, wood-burning fireplace she’d somehow missed before. Subconsciously drumming her fingers on the table, she was jolted from her thoughts by a deep voice. 

Glancing up, her eyes welcomed the sight of her closest friend, Allen. Allen was a tall man, maybe 6’4”, with sandy blonde hair and green eyes. He was handsome, to say in the least, but his looks meant nothing to Emily, nor did her beauty have much effect on him. To an outsider they would appear a happy couple in love, but that was not the case as Emily was not Allen’s type; not even in the slightest. 

“Hello love,” he said briskly in his crisp Cockney accent, kissing her on the cheek. “And how are you doing on this fine, fine day? Enjoying the rain, were you?” 

“Very funny,” she retorted, trying without success to keep the smile from her face. “How did you manage to keep from getting drenched?” 

“Well, you see,” he began, “many years ago, a store called “James Smith & Sons” was opened, and they specialized in an invention I like to call the ‘umbrella’. They’re very useful when it comes to keeping dry in the rain.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. “You know what I meant. So what made y--” 

“Are ya’ll ready for something to drink?” Carol was back, pen at the ready. “How about you there, handsome?” She winked at Allen. 

Emily pressed her fist to her mouth, trying her hardest to stifle a laugh. “I’ll have a glass of water with lemon on the side,” Allen said, completely oblivious to Carol’s advances. “Oh and, she’ll have the same.” Waiting until Carol walked away, he leaned towards Emily and murmured, “Honestly, the nerve of some people. Isn’t it obvious that I’m gay?” 

Emily, unable to contain it anymore, let out a single giggle. “Maybe to some, but clearly not to all.” She unrolled the silverware, spreading the napkin across her lap. “What are we doing here anyways? What made you choose this little dinky place?” 

At that moment, the man with the hidden face stood, approaching the two’s table. A little short in stature with silvery hair and grey eyes identical to those of the girl looking up at him, he stopped abruptly. “If you don’t mind, I’d very much like to join you,” he said in a raspy voice. 

“But of course,” Allen said smoothly, taking a sip from the glass of water Carol had just placed in front of him. “Thank you,” he dismissed her, squeezing a lemon into the glass.

“Emily, I know you may not remember me,” the man began, eyes searching her face eagerly. “Who am I kidding? Of course you don’t remember me. You were only a baby when your mother took you away from me…” 

“How do you know my mother?” Emily asked, gaze shifting from the strange man, to Allen, and then back to the man again. “And what do you mean when she “took me away from you”?”

Allen held a single finger up, silencing the man before he could say another word. “Allow me.” He turned to Emily, taking her hands in his. “Emily, this man is your father. I came in here the other day to get out of the rain and he and I got to talking. He owns this place, you see, but that’s beside the point. Anyway; he and I were talking, and he mentioned a daughter of his; said she had his eyes, but that was all he remembered. You see, her mother had taken her from him when she was but a baby, leaving him behind for another man.” He paused, waiting for Emily’s reaction. 

“So this is my dad?” She pointed at the man. “If he’s my dad, then who’s the man that I grew up calling Dad?” She pulled her hands from Allen’s grasp, crossing her arms and pursing her lips. 

“The man Lana left me for,” the man stated, locking his eyes onto Emily’s. 

“She told me once that my father called her Lana, but I never heard Dad call her that. I thought maybe it was something in the past. But I asked him about it, and he said he’d never called her that in his life..” Emily stared into the eyes so familiar to her own, the eyes of her father. 

Allen grinned, watching the two as their faces slowly melted into shy smiles. 

Reviews

[Wolfwind]

A touching piece. Brought together will with a fine use of description and character personalities. Well done!

Aaron