
Commitment
Decades ago, a university friend I hadn’t seen for five years appeared while I sat outside my neighbourhood pub enjoying a solitary after-work beer.
“I always admired the way you ignored everyone and followed your muse,” Susan said after a brief hello, how are you.
I stared, bewildered. Since high school, I’d lived in fear of bullies insisting everyone should adhere to their narrow definition of proper behaviour. “Nothing admirable about my conduct. I was a misfit who avoided interaction with others.”
She shook her head. “You stuck to your principles, but I didn’t. For years I lived a lie, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. But don’t let us argue. I found you because I need your help.”
She sipped the glass of wine she brought to the table while I nursed my beer. I’d applauded her bravery when she acknowledged a lesbian relationship during our senior year. Hiding her orientation earlier when it was illegal was sensible, not cowardly.
“What sort of help?” I asked.
A smile brightened her face. “You remember Patricia?”
I’d met her partner in 1969 at our university graduation ceremony. After the diploma presentations, we bypassed the formal reception because I wasn’t comfortable in crowds, and they wanted to avoid bringing attention to their relationship. We sauntered to the campus pub for a quiet celebration before I flew away to graduate school.
“You’re still together, living happily ever after?”
“And we need your help with baby-making.”
I damn near dropped my glass. “You mean sperm donation?”
“Not on. The clinics only accept married couples.”
“At-home do-it-yourself insemination using a turkey baster?”
“Well, sort of. Come to supper on Wednesday. We can discuss the details.”
A few minutes later, she strolled away. I ordered a second beer and contemplated my first serious open-ended commitment to anyone. Have courage, I said to myself; this may complicate your simple, well-ordered life, but it’s the right thing to do.
Now, forty-five years later, I’m sitting next to Susan on that university quadrangle, watching our granddaughter accept her diploma.
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To Leave Comments - Please SignIn with GoogleTo some this may be a tricky topic, but you used the story line to show how Courage has so many different faces. Not many people could do that. I enjoyed the hint of humour that ran through the story.
Thanks for the positive comments. I was trying to find a little bit different take on the ‘Courage’ theme.
Alan, that is a beautiful story! I have goosebumps. That last line is the perfect ending. Well done!
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To Leave Comments - Please SignIn with GoogleThanks for the encouragement. Endings for these little stories are critical. I tried several ways to end this little story before coming up with that one.
The ending is so unpredictable yet so relieving. Loved the story.
Thanks for the positive comments. My central character was a loner, not very well connected with others, so it would have been easy for him to wander off never to be seen again. I wanted an unusual but upbeat way to have him finally reconnect with his ‘family’.
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To Leave Comments - Please SignIn with GoogleI can imagine it would have taken a lot of courage for your main character to make such a life-changing decision. But how wonderfully heartwarming it paid off. I loved the ending; he found his family.
Glad you liked it. Theme was ‘Courage’ and I thought the courage shown by a loner who made a commitment to join a ‘family’ would be an interesting take.
A really engaging story, Alan. Very authentic, and I loved the surprise ending.
Comments without a personalized avatar will not be published.
To Leave Comments - Please SignIn with GoogleThe positive response to this story has been really encouraging. Thanks for letting me know.