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Author’s note
Sometimes, how you get somewhere makes the destination all the more rewarding. In cases like this one, it’s all about the journey and the discoveries along the way. Buckle up; this one is long with plenty of excitement down the road.
This story had previously been cut into two chapters, however it is more impactful when delivered as a whole. Apologies in advance as that leads one longer tale.
If you have concerns over what content may be in a story, please read the story tags before continuing. If a subject is not of interest, this may not be the story for you. For everyone else, I hope you enjoy.
As always, all characters are over the age of 18.
* * *
PROLOGUE
Dad had a joke he used to say when we were younger. My sister, Dani, and I didn’t really find it funny, but it made Mom laugh.
“Judy is my wife, but Daisy is my mistress.”
Back then I didn’t quite understand the joke but my sister Danielle and I would still chuckle as if we did. Mom rolled her eyes and did the things that moms do, mostly humoring their husbands. But all things considered, you could tell he did harbor a serious attraction for Daisy, and none of us could blame him. Even Mom would occasionally stare at her curves as she passed. It’s true, she was a sight to behold, and my father’s pride and joy (yes I’m including his children with that statement). You likely would think the same if you had her, a beautiful blue ’56 Chevy Cameo.
I’d like to say we all loved her because Dad was always gushing, but we each found our own joy with that car. He’d spend hours tuning her up in the garage, me lending a hand where I could and learning a thing or two about how she runs. Dani would help too., though 10-year-old me would just say she was in the way. At the end of the day, when we came in with grease and sweat coating our smiling faces, Mom always wash away the grime before she and pops would take an evening ride around town.
It was Mom who actually gave Daisy her name. While Dad was a man with many talents, Mom had a very special eye and was without a doubt the artist in the family. She would sculpt, paint, write, you name it, executing some secret vision that always impressed. As Dad told us; it was when they were young, foolish, and madly in love, Mom painted a little flower on the glovebox. A tiny white and yellow daisy; hence her name.
Our family-owned a small hardware store outside of Dayton, Ohio. Dad originally wanted to name it “Campbells” after our last name, but Mom talked him out of it knowing it would only be a matter of time Cebeci Escort before a lawyer or two came knocking. It was a modest little shop, and our parents put everything they had into it. To Danielle and I, we lived like royalty, but in reality, we were just scraping by. So imagine our shock when during one family dinner, Mom and Dad laid the heavy news on us.
“Richard, Dani, we have to sell Daisy.”
I don’t mean to sound melodramatic but to say we were devastated would be an understatement. Daisy was part of the family; you can’t sell a family member! I had dreamed of learning to drive with that car! Maybe someday, perhaps Dad would even hand the keys over to me for keeps. But for all our crying and kicking, that’s what happened, Dad sold her to some car collector or something and the world somehow managed to keep spinning.
As the years passed, somehow I managed to graduate high school, and even more surprisingly, obtained a scholarship to Boston University for Engineering. Sure it meant heading a few states away from the family, but I still found the means to go back on holidays and breaks. As time went on, and college curriculum got harder, I found more and more need to lean into those moments away with family. I mean, sure, I still managed to let off steam as college kids do, and I did well enough in the lady department, but still, there’s something to be said about coming home and spending time with loved ones that reminds you of the simple things.
With the first year away under my belt, and when Dani was a senior in High School, everything else seemed to get easier. Yet that year, when I came home on spring break, it just so happened to be when Mom and Dad were vacationing in California’s Wine Country. Annoying as that was, it gave Dani and me a whole week just to ourselves. It was just one week, and it redefined our relationship in such an incredible way.
We caught up on our yearly shenanigans, dating lives, school and work, and whatever. We had a Star Wars marathon, played endless board games, and just messed around doing whatever stupid things came to mind. It was just good, honest fun. Then, just like that, the week was over and it was time to make the long trek back east. But not before we made a pledge to meet up every year after.
To really understand what happened next, one would have to better understand Danielle as a whole. I have nothing but love and respect for my sister. She, like myself, strives to be as kind and caring as possible, embodying “do unto others” lifestyle. Yet, at the same time, she is also pretty sarcastic, pretty snarky, and pretty… Cebeci Escort Bayan well she’s pretty.
Look, I know there’s no avoiding the obvious here, but when considering all context and narrative expectations, it should go without saying that yes, I think my sister is an attractive human being; inside and out. She has that cute personality of the girl next door meets a not-so-secretive nerd. She’s active; being in both track and volleyball, yet wanted to be in the drama club. If you took all the stereotypes in high school and turn them into a Venn Diagram; she’d be the one flipping you off in the middle. So yeah, she was that girl; cute enough to be voted Prom Queen, but hip enough to reject it.
So that’s Dani; my compulsive, spunky, witty, attractive, and almost filterless little sister. It came as no surprise when she moved to Austin, Texas to study Interior Design, followed closely after by Seattle, Washington for literature. Literally, every year after high school she was on the move, sometimes twice a year. I think it was when she was in Salt Lake City she finally stopped with college altogether. She made contacts, learned a thing or two, then would move on to her next destination that somehow piqued her interest. I wasn’t one to complain as each year, I’d go see her wherever she was and in so doing, got to travel the nation. It was our tradition. Yet while we had our adventures, back home things were different.
For our parents, it was a little hard at first with the empty house and quiet rooms. But I blame Dani and her exploits across the country for somehow passing on the travel bug. Wishing for their own adventure, they decided to move westward. Dad sold the shop and the house was next. They bought up some acres outside of those vineyards in California they loved so much. As Dad put it, they were gonna spend their next chapter tilling the earth or something like that.
And that was it, childhood was over. Adulthood coming in hot. Didn’t know what to expect next, but leave it to Dani to shake things up.
* * *
March 2004.
GREENSBORO, NORTH CAROLINA
It never fails; when traveling at an airport, you will always find yourself stuck behind someone who is standing on the moving walkways. And so, here I was, backpack slung over my shoulder after a five-hour flight to North Carolina. Everything I brought was able to fit in the overhead bin, and now stuck behind a family with far too many bags just standing there, congesting the walkway. As my agitation began to rise, I calmed myself. I was in no hurry. None at all.
Maneuvering Escort Cebeci through the airport was a different challenge. After passing families reuniting, the businessmen and women running here and there as if perpetually late for whatever is next, I made it to the gaggle of chauffeurs all patiently holding signs to find their hired client. As I passed the last group, I suddenly stopped, a moment of doubt washed over me, but I know I saw what I thought I saw.
I turned back finding in the sea of signs and people, a lone female agent waiting for a “Mr. Dickhead”. And of course, the bearer of said sign wearing aviator shades, an oversized chauffeur’s hat the world’s dumbest lamb, and Winston kept searching under the table for any fallen scraps, nearly knocking over each chair he passed with his behemoth size.
After the dishes were cleared and collectively cleaned, Barbara bid us a good night leaving Dani and I to chat alone at the kitchen table.
We watched her leave with her sleepy dog trotting behind.
“She’s the best. I friggin’ love that woman,” Dani said as she poured herself another glass of Chardonnay.
“So how’d you two meet?”
“Ah!” Her eyes lit up as she leaned forward. “It was actually a couple years back when I lived in New York. I was working on a special project and ended up getting in contact with her late husband, Hank.”
She leaned back, placing a hand over her heart. “Honestly, he was the sweetest guy, Richie, he really was. Polite, caring, and thought the world of Barbara. That man loved his wife, no questions asked. To see them together, you’d think they just started dating.” Tears welled up in her eyes and she took a deep breath; composing herself.
“So,” she began. “I ended up getting in contact with Hank and we ended up chatting back and forth from time to time. When they found out I was passing through, they offered to put me up for a couple of days and that began to be a regular thing up until last Fall. I was coming down to spend a weekend here and found out Hank passed away not long before. I couldn’t leave Barb like that so the weekend turned into a week, then a month, and before you know it, here I am.”
“What about your job?” I asked.
“That I can now do from anywhere.”
I must have had a questioning look on my face, either that or she read my mind.
“I’m kinda like a journalist now. Kinda. More like editorials and stuff for… Have you heard of ‘Anastasia’? The Magazine?”
After a moment’s thought, I shook my head. “Sorry”
“No worries,” she said. “It’s kinda one of those girlie rags like Cosmo, but anyway, I met an editor for them in Seattle and started writing for them last year. Mostly I do little thought pieces and get paid when I post, then bonuses based on how many views, and, blah-blah-blah. They told me to get a laptop, get a camera, and wished me luck.”