Fred Matthews, Ch. 3 part 1

I took eight days off from writing and doing anything here. I was having a hard time seeing where this was going and didn't want to jump in too quickly, and most of my time had been consumed with writing for a little while. But after a week, I feel better about this and where it is going.

I've had bits and pieces of stories that I've wanted to write and did start in fragments. Some of those elements will start to play out in this story because I think there are ideas I want to express through them. The first of the previous ideas will be introduced today, but it won't drastically change the story yet.

And outside of writing, things are good. I'm always learning and growing and this period of my life is no different.

But let's keep this thing going. A little shorter, more accessible. Anywya, failure, ahoy!

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Fred pulled his car into the parking lot of the hospital just before 9 A.M through the spring rain. The sun struggled to break through the thin layer of clouds as the morning tried to decide what kind of day it would be. Fred wondered this as well as he walked under his umbrella toward the entrance of St. Luke's. He stepped around the puddles, lost in his own thoughts. He had seen Ryan only a few days ago, but seeing him wasn't the same as when it was doctor and patient like today. Their friendship tended to ignore the unfortunate reality that Fred was Ryan's patient, but it was easier now that he only saw him once a year in this capacity.

He checked in with the receptionist and took a seat in the waiting area. Sitting with the rest of the patients was something he always found enlightening. As a Doctor, he rarely saw the reality of the waiting room. He observed the nervousness in each face and the awkward silence that filled room despite the television and the twenty-four hour news cycle. Fred didn't dare touch the magazines though, he knew better than to give into the temptation, to immerse himself in an absent minded diversion covered in every common ailment known to man.

After about ten minutes, Ryan came out to greet Fred personally. "Matthews?" Ryan called into the waiting room, pretending not to know him for the sake of the rest of those waiting for a doctor. Fred rose from his chair wordlessly and walked over to Ryan, who was holding back a smile. "How are you doing today, Dr. Matthews?"

Fred saw the restrained smile and played along with a sigh, "I'm doing well, Dr. Taylor. And yourself?"

"Quite well, thank you. Right this way," Ryan replied as he held the door open for Fred.

When the door closed behind them, Fred asked, "You love doing that don't you?"

"Doing what?" Ryan said, playing innocent as he followed Fred down the hall. "My office is the last one on the left."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Anyway, I'll be a lot better in a few hours," Fred said as he walked into Ryan's office. He hung his coat and took a seat and watched as Ryan did the same.

"I"m sure, Fred. I will be too. What do you say we get down to business?"

"Sooner the better."

"Agreed."

Fred Matthews, Ch. 2 part 2

I feel like there has been too much dialogue in the last few relative to... non-dialogue? Prose? I don't know. I really want to explore who these people are without being preachy or awkward. Let's laugh together as I try to pull that off.



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They played another game of darts and generally let the topic of women, and specifically Rachel, drop for the time being. They talked about Ryan's wife and kids and how they were doing for a little while. Fred appreciated having the focus off of himself for the rest of the night. Ryan had been right about him and he knew it. It had been awhile since he had found anyone that he really clicked with and knew that he shouldn't let her go.

But one thing that Fred knew, was that old habits are hard to break. The reason he found it so hard to believe that Rachel had also had fun last Saturday was that Fred could remember all of the awkward things he had said and done. He could relive every time that he had made a joke that didn't land or the conversation got quiet. He could tell Ryan all about the fun he had singing karaoke, but the more he thought it over the more it seemed shaded by his awkwardness.

"Well, I think I should probably get home to Lauren. The kids are probably in bed by now and she will be too if I don't hurry," Ryan said.

"I suppose it's time to break up the party. I've got to make a call and get up for work in the morning," Fred replied. He wasn't sure that he would make the call tonight or even tomorrow, but thought that Ryan would appreciate having that thrown out there.

"Glad to hear it. You need a ride or anything?" Ryan asked.

"No, I'm okay. The bus will be stopping out front in a few minutes and I can get off a block from my apartment. Thanks for the offer though," Fred answered.

"Anytime. See you around."

"See ya."

As Fred waited for the bus, he couldn't get the worst moments from last Saturday out his mind. The part that really got to him was that somewhere deep inside himself he knew that none of it was really so bad. It was unlikely that Rachel remembered any of his so-called slip ups. He tried to remember anything that Rachel had done that seemed out of place or awkward. But that didn't really help. The fact that he couldn't remember anything only convinced him that she hadn't done it.

When the bus arrived, Fred pulled out his iPod and took a seat. He thought about why he couldn't let go of the most trivial moments in his past, and why he still got embarrassed over them. Like the time his first grade teacher yelled at him for something he'd never done. Or when he was laughed at in basketball practice in middle school because he wasn't any good. He started to think that these moments weren't all so trivial, but maybe just a pattern of allowing himself to be the victim. He wondered if being a victim was so central to the way he viewed himself that he cherished these sad memories as integral components of his identity.

But that didn't fit either. Sure, in some of his memories he was a victim of some kind, but not in all. There were too many incidents that haunted him that were embarrassing for what he had done himself. And even where he couldn't forget something that he did to good friend. "Any thought of being an eternal victim should probably be forgotten," he decided.

"If I'm going to call her and ask her out this weekend, I should try and feel better about how Saturday went," he though. He tried to remember the date with Rachel from an objective point of view, tried to see how Rachel might have remembered it. She was so excited to see him when they met back in the lobby to walk to the restaurant. She had more questions about his job and his life in Milwaukee. He asked her about what movies she had seen lately. So far this wasn't really helping.

Rachel had seemed very interested in him, and didn't mind asking him question after question. Maybe he hadn't asked enough questions in return? Or maybe that was just her way. Most questions he did ask got a brief answer out of her before she would turn it back on him. He remembered that one of his questions did get a longer, more personal answer from her. He had asked her, "When you were young, what did you want to do more than anything in the world?"

She had paused for a moment before answering and repeated the question to herself once under her breath. She began somewhat hesitantly, "I did most of my growing up in rural Iowa; we didn't actually move to Aurora until I was a teenager. As a little girl growing up I would wander through open fields and dream of getting out. The wide open spaces helped me imagine a vast world where I could accomplish anything I dream.

"I loved to study. I would read anything I could get my hands on, but I really loved geography. While my world was flat during the day, my dreams were filled with the Rockies and the Alps. Skiing sounded like heaven to me. I couldn't believe that anyone would choose to live in Iowa when there were places like Colorado. I would walk through corn fields and pretend it was a lush forest, and the tree tops visible over the rows of corn were distant peaks. I must have spent an entire summer wishing I could visit just once, that one visit would be enough.

"When we were ten my family took a trip out to Denver. We didn't have a lot of money which meant we drove about 700 miles. But you know, as a kid visiting new places and seeing new things, I didn't mind so much. I would fall asleep in the back of the car for an hour here and there, and then my brother and sister would end up waking me. Every time I would jump up and study the landscape around me, searching for a trace of mountain on the horizon.

"We crossed into Colorado and started to climb in elevation. The trees changed and so did the temperature as the miles counted down on the highway signs. I noticed the air changing and my ears started popping. My mom told us kids how to make it go away and treated us to chewing gum. So the three of sat in the back of the station wagon, mouths full of bubble gum, eyes rapt with the changing scenery.

"But I started having trouble breathing just outside of Denver. My dad explained that the air was thinner up there and I just needed to calm down and take deeper breaths. This helped a little, but I just couldn't catch up and I couldn't calm down. All I could focus on was breathing, deep breath in and out. But I still couldn't get it under control. When I started to cough, my parents started to worry as well. And after we checked into the hotel, my parents took us to the hospital.

"I had been diagnosed with asthma back in Iowa, but didn't really bother me. I would typically be able to just calm down and catch my breath for a minute or two. But with the thin air of the mountains I need the inhaler the doctor in Denver gave to me. It wasn't until our 4th day there that I could really start to enjoy it, and by then we only had a day left.

"I had been so excited to see the hills and mountains, really anything other than the plains and corn fields. But all I can remember from that vacation is how disappointed I was. I expected to be running and playing, but instead I was having to sit around and do nothing. I didn't dream about mountains anymore after that. I realized I wasn't meant to live there like I had always hoped.

"Wow, sorry. That took a little more serious turn than I had expected! Sorry, Fred. Hey! I think they are going to start karaoke. I've always wanted to do that, what do you say?"

Fred wasn't any closer to finding out why she liked him, but he knew that he had to call her. If there was any chance he could see Rachel again, he would make it happen.

Fred Matthews Ch. 1

Since I've finished what I would consider chapter 1. I figured a repost all in one place was in order. This would be the story from Let it Rain/Dream Job #1, Fred Matthews cont. 1 and Fred Matthews cont. 2.

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Fred stood in front of the crowded banquet hall, waiting to begin his speech. The emcee was saying something to the gathered mass of industry professionals, but Fred couldn't pay attention to that right now. Fred was fighting the butterflies that threatened his composure before this important moment. Images of his note cards raced through his mind, each of their important points popping off the imaginary page for a moment before disappearing.

The emcee finished his remarks and announced the next speaker, "And without further ado, I have the distinct pleasure of introducing our keynote speaker, Dr. Fred Matthews!" The emcee stepped back from the microphone and joined in the polite applause that accompanied Fred's walk to the podium.

"Thank you. You're very kind. As you know, I am Fred Matthews and I'm here to talk to you about methods of reducing transplant rejection in children and young adults," Fred began. He found that once his speech had started, the audience paid more attention to the content of his presentation than his particular style or public speaking ability. With his lowered stress level, the note cards in his mind passed slowly reminding him of each point he needed to make.

Fifteen minutes later, Fred was wrapping up his remarks and eagerly anticipating stepping off of the stage. His final note card was hanging in his mind and he read from the last line, "And that summarizes the emerging methods in transplant acceptance. Again, I am Fred Matthews, and it has been a pleasure to speak to you today. Thank you." Fred felt the emcee approaching the microphone and he turned to walk off stage. The emcee stopped Fred and requested another round of applause for the Doctor. Fred gave one last polite wave to the crowd and continued his journey off stage.

Fred left the banquet hall through a side door and walked toward the bar. As a speaker at the conference he had already seen all of the presentations once didn't feel the need to sit through them once more. And while Fred didn't smoke, he understood the urge that people felt to smoke during times of stress. For him, a cold beer and a comfortable chair was the perfect way to wind down.

The bar area only had a few people in it, but none of them were the other speakers. And since Fred had just finished speaking before coming out here, it seemed unlikely that any of them had seen his presentation or even knew who he was. And to Fred, that was perfect. He ordered a beer at the bar and took a seat at an empty table.

A door to the banquet hall opened and young woman stepped out of the room slowly. Fred thought the next speaker must have started and that she didn't want to draw attention to herself. When she turned around and started toward the bar, Fred recognized her immediately. Her name was Rachel Spier and she had spoken earlier in the day about robot assisted tumor excision. She spotted Fred looking in her direction and smiled at him as neared his table.

"Dr. Matthews, right?" she asked.

Fred was mildly surprised to be approached by her and found that his beer was not curing his nervousness very well anymore. He stood and managed to say, "Ah... yes. That's correct. But please, call me Fred." Though he thought he knew the answer already, he offered her his hand and asked, "And you are?"

Rachel shook the offered hand and replied confidently, "Dr. Rachel Spier. But please, just call me Rachel." She pulled the chair away from the table slightly and asked, "May I?"

"Of course, it would be my pleasure. Can I get you anything to drink?" He said, and both of them sat down. Fred surprised to notice his anxiety was fading already. Rachel had a way about her that soothed him from the moment she shook his hand. He found this to be a curious, if not frightening, power she had over him.

Interrupting Fred's thoughts, Rachel answer, "Sure! Just a Coke, please."

"Coming right up," Fred replied as he started to get out of his chair to go to the bar.

"Oh, well don't go and order me one! I just got here and now you're going to leave me sitting here all alone?" Rachel teased. "I can wait until the waiter comes around."

Fred sat back down with a smile, "If you insist."

"Oh, I do. Now it seems that all I know about you is your name and that you are quite knowledgeable about organ transplants. So tell me, do you come here often?" she joked.

Surprised by her joke, Fred responded through his laughter, "No. No, I don't get here often I'm afraid. First time in fact. You?"

"Yes, this is my first time as well. But if I knew that they had Doctors as cute as you here I would have made it a point to come sooner," Rachel said as she continued to tease him. She was proud to have made him laugh so quickly. It wasn't always easy getting to know people, and laughter seemed to reveal something intimate about a person. Her grandmother always thought most everything you needed to know about someone could be found in the things they laughed at and how they did it. Rachel had always thought that was pretty true as well. And Fred, he had a good, pure laughter. The kind that didn't come out at someone's expense but only in moments of shared joy. A laughter that invited you to join in the fun.
Fred was smiling as he said, "Thank you, Rachel. You're too kind. But please, tell me a little about yourself. Where did you go to school?"

"Northwestern. You?"

"Wisconsin. Where are you practicing?"

"Chicago."

"Milwaukee."

"Wow, we're practically neighbors," Rachel said, interrupting him.

Returning her smile, "Yes, I suppose we are. Cubs or Sox?"

"Sox."

"Hometown?" he asked.

"Aurora."

"Madison."

"My turn. How did you end up on the speakers list?" Rachel asked, tired of trivial questions.

"Good question, but perhaps you don't think I deserved to speak?" he said, teasing her for the first time.

"Well, that's not exactly what I said. I've reserved judgement for now; I think you have potential."

"Potential, huh? High praise if I've ever heard it," he said flatly. He made sure she saw the half smile that let her know he was only joking.

"You should hear what I have to say about people I don't like. I would say I'm being downright civil, flattering almost."

"Civil! Why I think you are right, I don't think I would enjoy being on your bad side if you consider this flattery. Although I do wonder if any side of you could fairly be called bad. A daisy may close with the setting of the sun, but I would never call it ugly for having done so," Fred said.

"Is that so?" she asked laughing softly at the awkward line.

"It is," Fred replied as he started to turn red. He laughed quietly to himself and noticed that she had a warm smile to match her eyes that assured him that the line wouldn't cost him anything further than the polite laugh.

"Well, now who's guilty of flattery?" Rachel replied playfully, trying to get back on offense.

"Guilty as charged. I'll admit that, but don't blame me. I saw how well you wore flattery and..."

"Yeah, yeah, I see where you're going with this and you never answered my question," she said, cutting him off. She brightened a bit as he became more comfortable and was able to deliver a better compliment, not that his compliments were what she was judging.

"It's just that the story is boring and it probably wouldn't impress you anyway," he said, practically begging her to push for it harder. He wasn't going to give up on the flirting just yet.

She took the bait. "Perhaps it won't. But I would like to decide that for myself."

"Fine. During school I worked with some leading researchers in gene therapy. We studied the subtleties of blood type and visceral phenotype, and we found some patterns in organ rejection where conventional wisdom didn't expect any problems. This led to clinical studies involving a handful of specialized immunosuppressants. We found strong correlations between each of the drugs and phenotypes, which led to drastic reductions in recovery time and complications.

"Following graduation, I initiated a transplant study that better paired donors with recipients. My method balanced recipient need with genetic compatibility with a donors genetics. This led to patients with a great match receiving an organ despite being lower on the list. There was a problem initially with patients who had to wait despite being near the top of the list, but the study showed that over time there was an overall reduction in average time on the transplant list. The reduced time was attributed to fewer patients needing a second organ because of rejections.

"The study just finished its third year and I'm attempting to expand the method across the country. I approached the organizers of this event with my results and they offered me a time slot. I'm hoping that it will gain some traction and gain acceptance with the FDA."

Rachel had been at his presentation, but that was mostly the data and drug interactions. She found herself more impressed having heard the story first hand. Now she was hoping that he didn't ask how she got her time slot, because she hadn't had very much to do with the research that had won over the selection committee. "Well I am impressed, and I'm sorry that I doubted you. And if I can be any help in getting your plan approval, just let me know."

"Thanks. I don't feel I deserve all of the credit. I'm generally reluctant to take any, but my mentors were more interested in drug development than the clinical applications."

"I guess I should ask another question," Rachel said.

"I guess so," Fred agreed. Sure his questions had been quick and to the point and hers was a little more involved and one sided, but Rachel seemed too nice for him to argue the point with her.

"So does a handsome, successful doctor like you have girlfriend waiting for him back home?"

"A girlfriend? No, I don't have one of those," Fred answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I wouldn't want her to be jealous if I asked you out to dinner tonight."

"Yes, that wouldn't be good. But dinner, dinner sounds perfect," Fred replied.

"It's a date then," Rachel said resolutely. "I think the seminar is about to end for the day and the bar could be pretty crowded in a minute or two. How about we meet back here in two hours?"

"I can't wait."

Turning a Corner / Fred Matthews Ch. 2 part 1.

So up to now, I'm writing about two people in one place. They didn't go anywhere, or really do anything. There is no problem and therefore no unresolved issues. If it were to end with my last post, all would be well. But that is not why I'm here.

I imagine that up to now I've been walking down a street. And in order to get anywhere, I need to turn a corner and walk a different way. What I'm trying to say is, this part will be harder by necessity. A complexity to multiple scenes and moving parts that requires planning and, most importantly, an ending.

I started with an inspiration from Seth Godin and here is another, albeit paraphrased:

Starting requires finishing. If you don't finish it, you never really started it.

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"So how did that conference thing go, Fred?" Ryan asked.

Fred was just stepping up to the line and readied his dart. "Conference was fine. I did generate some interest in the program that I'll need to follow up on. It wasn't quite the clamoring for trial details that I had been hoping for, but it's more than I had before," Fred said. He threw the dart that he had been holding and perched the next one between his fingers. "I met a girl there, though." Another dart hit the board.

"Oh yeah? How did that happen? I can't picture you going up to some girl and asking her out," Ryan asked as Fred tossed his final dart. Fred had always been rather quiet and withdrawn around people he didn't know. And even around those that he was familiar with, like Ryan, he tended to reserve himself a little.

"You're right, I didn't go up to her and ask her out. She asked me out," Fred answered as he handed the darts to Ryan.

"She sounds like a brave one, so far so good. So she asked you out, and you got dinner or what?"

"Yeah, just dinner. We went to this barbecue place a few blocks away and had a couple of drinks and talked for awhile."

"And how did it go?" Ryan asked.

"I had fun. Okay, I had a lot fun. No big deal."

Ryan was lining up his second dart when he stopped to say, "No big deal? You wouldn't have said anything if it wasn't a big deal. I'm sure you've had dates and haven't told me before . I think there is more to this story that you're not telling me. What's this girl like?"

"What's she like? I don't know, that's such a broad question. I mean she's nice, friendly, funny, outgoing... We had a good time, is that what you want me to say?

"Getting there. I now know that this girl uhh... what's her name by the way?" Ryan asked.

"Rachel."

"Rachel, got it. I now know that this Rachel is nice, friendly, funny and outgoing. Good story. What else? Why did you have fun? Would you go out with her again?" Ryan said when he handed the darts back.

"Fine, you want more? Here goes. You suck at darts by the way."

"At least I don't suck at telling your friend how his date went. Get on with it."

"Well we met after my presentation. I was sitting at the bar, relaxing with a beer, when Rachel came out of the banquet hall. She must have seen me step out through a side door and left to find me, because when she saw me sitting at a table she came directly to my table. We chatted for a few minutes and got to know each other. She's a doctor too and actually gave a presentation earlier on in the conference. She asked me about my research and afterward she asked me out to dinner.

"As I said, we went to this barbecue place in the neighborhood. The atmosphere made it really easy to get to know each other; it's kind of hard to be serious when your face and hands are slathered in barbecue sauce. After a quick wash in the bathroom, we reminisced about college days and compared hobbies and interests. Joked about awkward first dates we'd had before. I think I had more of those stories than she did, but whatever. The she got up to sang karaoke and then begged me to sing one too."

"Really? Karaoke? And did you do it?" Ryan asked in disbelief.

"Well, of course I did it. When a beautiful girl begs you to do something, you do it."

"Man, I wish I had been there. But she's good looking, huh?"

"I'd say she's out of my league." Fred said.

"That's not really saying much, but go on."

"Not much else to say. We had a couple of drinks and called it a night. It was nice, two people having a good time without the pressure of trying to make it to the second date. But don't get me wrong, I'd go out with her again, given the chance that is," Fred explained.

"Is that so? Well, where's she from?"

"Chicago."

"So that's like an hour and a half, tops. You're going for that second date, right?"

"Can't we just play darts?"

"No, we can't just play darts, Fred. You've been moping around here waiting for a girl that likes you to just fall into your lap. And sometimes I think you just need to grow a pair and go after one of them!" Ryan said forcefully.

Fred started to line up his throw without saying anything and Ryan thought he might have pushed him a little far. "Hey, I'm sorry, alright. I'm just trying to look out for you, that's all. If you want me to leave you alone about it, just say the word and I'll drop it," Ryan said. "But can you please just answer me that one question, are you going to go after her?"

"Yeah, I'll give her a call."

"And you'll go down and see her this weekend?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, I'll go to Chicago and see her. Alright?"

"You know you'll thank me someday. I've known you for awhile, Matthews, and you're usually pretty down about how a date went. I just think that you had a good time out there in Rochester and I don't want to see you quit on it," Ryan said with a softer edge. He wasn't going to push him on it anymore, and he just wanted Fred to realize that he was trying to help.

"Thanks Ryan. I know you just want what's best and I appreciate it."

Fred Matthews cont. 2

I really hadn't planned on doing this story more than one day, but I don't see any reason to stop. This would be #3 so far. It starts with Let it Rain/Dream Job #1 and continues in Fred Matthews cont. 1. Eventually I'll post something in combined formats for easier reading, but I like this for day-to-day. Fail-on!
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Fred was smiling as he said, "Thank you, Rachel. You're too kind. But please, tell me a little about yourself. Where did you go to school?"

"Northwestern. You?"

"Wisconsin. Where are you practicing?"

"Chicago."

"Milwaukee."

"Wow, we're practically neighbors," Rachel said, interrupting him.

Returning her smile, "Yes, I suppose we are. Cubs or Sox?"

"Sox."

"Hometown?" he asked.

"Aurora."

"Madison."

"My turn. How did you end up on the speakers list?" Rachel asked, tired of trivial questions.

"Good question, but perhaps you don't think I deserved to speak?" he said, teasing her for the first time.

"Well, that's not exactly what I said. I've reserved judgement for now; I think you have potential."

"Potential, huh? High praise if I've ever heard it," he said flatly. He made sure she saw the half smile that let her know he was only joking.

"You should hear what I have to say about people I don't like. I would say I'm being downright civil, flattering almost."

"Civil! Why I think you are right, I don't think I would enjoy being on your bad side if you consider this flattery. Although I do wonder if any side of you could be fairly called bad. A daisy may close with the setting of the sun, but I would never call it ugly for having done so," Fred said.

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"Well, now who's guilty of flattery?" Rachel replied, trying to get back on offense.

"Guilty as charged. I'll admit that, but don't blame me. I saw well you wore flattery and..."

"Yeah, yeah, I see where you're going with this and you never answered my question."

"It's just that the story is boring and it probably wouldn't impress you anyway," he said. He wasn't going to give up on the flirting just yet.

"Perhaps it won't. But I would like to decide that for myself."

"Fine. During school I worked with some leading researchers in gene therapy. We studied the subtleties of blood type and visceral phenotype, and we found some patterns in organ rejection where conventional wisdom didn't expect any problems. This led to clinical studies involving a handful of specialized immunosuppressants. We found strong correlations between each of the drugs and phenotypes, which led to drastic reductions in recovery time and complications.

"Following graduation, I initiated a transplant study that better paired donors with recipients. My method balanced recipient need with genetic compatibility with a donors genetics. This led to patients with a great match receiving an organ despite being lower on the list. There was a problem initially with patients who had to wait despite being near the top of the list, but the study showed that over time there was an overall reduction in average time on the transplant list. The reduced time was attributed to fewer patients needing a second organ because of rejections.

"The study just finished its third year and I'm attempting to expand the method across the country. I approached the organizers of this event with my results and they offered me a time slot. I'm hoping that it will gain some traction and gain acceptance with the FDA."

Rachel had been at his presentation, but that was mostly the data and drug interactions. She found herself more impressed having heard the story first hand. Now she was hoping that he didn't ask how she got her time slot, because she hadn't had very much to do with the research that had won over the selection committee. "Well I am impressed, and I'm sorry that I doubted you. And if I can be any help in getting your plan approval, just let me know."

"Thanks. I don't feel I deserve all of the credit. I'm generally reluctant to take any, but my mentors were more interested in drug development than the clinical applications."

"I guess I should ask another question," Rachel said.

"I guess so," Fred agreed. Sure his questions had been quick and to the point and hers was a little more involved and one side, but Rachel seemed too nice for him to argue the point with her.

"So does a handsome, successful doctor like you have girlfriend waiting for him back home?"

"A girlfriend? No, I don't have one of those," Fred answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I wouldn't want her to be jealous if I asked you out to dinner tonight."

"Yes, that wouldn't be good. But dinner, dinner sounds perfect," Fred replied.

"It's a date then," Rachel said resolutely. "I think the seminar is about to end for the day and the bar could be pretty crowded in a minute or two. How about we meet back here in two hours?"

"I can't wait."

Fred Matthews cont. 1

(I'm fairly short on time this evening, but don't want to stop failing. I started this story only to have something to write, but tonight I'll keep it going. Why not, right? And editing, well maybe later. I'm expecting to fail, remember?)

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  Fred left the banquet hall through a side door and walked toward the bar. As a speaker at the conference he had already seen all of the presentations once didn't feel the need to sit through them once more. And while Fred didn't smoke, he understood the urge that people felt to smoke during times of stress. For him, a cold beer and a comfortable chair was the perfect way to wind down.
  The bar area only had a few people in it, but none of them were the other speakers. And since Fred had just finished speaking before coming out here, it seemed unlikely that any of them had seen his presentation or even knew who he was. And to Fred, that was perfect. He ordered a beer at the bar and took a seat at an empty table.
  A door to the banquet hall opened and young woman stepped out of the room slowly. Fred thought the next speaker must have started and that she didn't want to draw attention to herself. When she turned around and started toward the bar, Fred recognized her immediately. Her name was Rachel Spier and she had spoken earlier in the day about robot assisted tumor excision. She spotted Fred looking in her direction and smiled at him as neared his table.
  "Dr. Matthews, right?" she asked.
  Fred was mildly surprised to be approached by her and found that his beer was not curing his nervousness very well anymore. He stood and managed to say,  "Ah... yes. That's correct. But please, call me Fred." Though he thought he knew the answer already, he offered her his hand and asked, "And you are?"
  Rachel shook the offered hand and replied confidently, "Dr. Rachel Spier. But please, just call me Rachel." She pulled the chair away from the table slightly and asked, "May I?"
  "Of course, it would be my pleasure. Can I get you anything to drink?" He said, and both of them sat down. Fred surprised to notice his anxiety was fading already. Rachel had a way about her that soothed him from the moment she shook his hand. He found this to be a curious, if not frightening, power she had over him.
  Interrupting Fred's thoughts, Rachel answer, "Sure! Just a Coke, please."
  "Coming right up," Fred replied as he started to get out of his chair to go to the bar.
  "Oh, well don't go and order me one! I just got here and now you're going to leave me sitting here all alone?" Rachel teased. "I can wait until the waiter comes around."
  Fred sat back down with a smile, "If you insist."
  "Oh, I do. Now it seems that all I know about you is your name and that you are quite knowledgeable about organ transplants. So tell me, do you come here often?" she joked.
  Surprised by her joke, Fred responded through his laughter, "No. No, I don't get here often I'm afraid. First time in fact. You?"
  "Yes, this is my first time as well. But if I knew that they had Doctors as cute as you here I would have made it a point to come sooner," Rachel said as she continued to tease him. She was proud to have made him laugh so quickly. It wasn't always easy getting to know people, and laughter seemed to reveal something intimate about a person. Her grandmother always thought most everything you needed to know about someone could be found in the things they laughed at and how they did it. Rachel had always thought that was pretty true as well. And Fred, he had a good, pure laughter. The kind that didn't come out at someone's expense but only in moments of shared joy. A laughter that invited you to join in the fun.

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Let It Rain / Dream Job #1

As a kid, everyone is asked what they want to be when they grow up. When I was in first grade, my answer was stand-up comedian. I had some high-minded view of comedy and the effect that it had on people. I know that this answer was inspired by my family and our constant, if unspoken of, competition to be the funniest and have the last joke. Well I'm no comedian and I don't think I ever will be. Let's call that failure #1 in what is a long list of failed dreams and attempts to find success.

So if someone asked me today what I wanted to be if I could be anything, what would I say? Well if my boss is asking me, I say I want to be an engineer for the rest of my life. But if I answer honestly, I find it hard to find an answer I am willing to stand behind. You see, I'm too afraid of failing at whatever career or dream I might say to actually commit to it and try for it. But lately, if I had to say something, I would say that I want to be a writer. So I'm going to write, fully intending to fail. And who knows, I might just find a glimmer of success somewhere along the way. And for now, the failure will rain from the skies in short, uninspired snippets of fiction.


One last item before we begin. A real writer once said,
"Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot."
And Mr. Twain's words capture my opinion of your opinions and apathy perfectly.

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  Fred stood in front of the crowded banquet hall, waiting to begin his speech. The emcee was saying something to the gathered mass of industry professionals, but Fred couldn't pay attention to that right now. Fred was fighting the butterflies that threatened his composure before this important moment. Images of his note cards raced through his mind, each of their important points popping off the imaginary page for a moment before disappearing.
  The emcee finished his remarks and announced the next speaker, "And without further ado, I have the distinct pleasure of introducing our keynote speaker, Dr. Fred Matthews!" The emcee stepped back from the microphone and joined in the polite applause that accompanied Fred's walk to the podium.
  "Thank you. You're very kind. As you know, I am Fred Matthews and I'm here to talk to you about methods of reducing transplant rejection in children and young adults," Fred began. He found that once his speech had started, the audience paid more attention to the content of his presentation than his particular style or public speaking ability. With his lowered stress level, the note cards in his mind passed slowly reminding him of each point he needed to make.
  Fifteen minutes later, Fred was wrapping up his remarks and eagerly anticipating stepping off of the stage. His final note card was hanging in his mind and he read from the last line, "And that summarizes the emerging methods in transplant acceptance. Again, I am Fred Matthews, and it has been a pleasure to speak to you today. Thank you." Fred felt the emcee approaching the microphone and he turned to walk off stage. The emcee stopped Fred and requested another round of applause for the Doctor. Fred gave one last polite wave to the crowd and continued his journey off stage.