Part 1
Paul’s first mistake had been to focus on having three chances. He wouldn’t have abandoned the first chance as easily if he hadn’t been thinking of two more. His second mistake had been letting Zach talk. Any move would have been rather awkward with his comments about female bodies and hounding girls in the air.
Today the class was cleaning up after a lab. It wasn’t messy, just involved putting away several tools exactly where they belonged. Paul watched Gretchen to see where she was putting her tools. And he watched her because it was amazing to watch her do anything. She had a confident grace. Her movements were purposeful but smooth and never rushed. And she smiled as though she couldn’t contain the joy inside her. That inner light was super attractive and occasionally distracting. It took him a moment to realize she had said something.
“Uh… tongs?” He held his up in a lame suggestion that she repeat what she’d said. Tongs was the only word he had caught.
“Is that where they go?” she asked, pointing at a drawer he was partially blocking.
He stepped back. “I was actually following you to know where they go.”
She opened the drawer to reveal a neat, parallel row of tongs with room on the end for at least two more.
“Looks like we were both right,” he said, motioning for her to put hers in first.
Gretchen gave a small but still very bright smile to acknowledge his moment of chivalry. Her eyes asked what he’d meant.
“You were right about where to put the tongs, and I was right that you would know.”
Her smile grew wider, though he wasn’t entirely sure she thought he was funny and wasn’t simply amused that he thought he was funny.
He followed her blatantly for the next few items, earning a few smiles. He hoped she understood that he was complimenting her intelligence and memory and not trying to showcase his own lack. Zach had gotten everything out for their table. Paul was doing his share of the work by putting it all away. He was doing that with someone he’d rather be around than Zach. No offense to Zach.
When the last cupboard was closed, he thanked Gretchen for her help.
“I don’t think not stopping you from following me counts as help,” she said. “And I don’t think I could have stopped you if I wanted to.”
“Zach set up while I read the instructions.” She could have stopped him simply by being less encouraging. He didn’t want to suggest that. Did she understand he was explaining why he needed her help instead?
“We’ve used the tongs before,” she said, “and the crucible, too. And I think some of the other stuff.” She both understood his explanation and rejected it.
Paul had to reject it, too, because in most cases he’d only been double-checking. Should he admit he wanted to stay close to her and lead in to asking if he could sit with her at Mass? His plan was to ask on the way. Last-minute felt the most casual and, hopefully, the easiest for her to say yes.
“You’re welcome anyway,” she said, before he made up his mind about a last-minute change to his last-minute plan. She picked up her bag with a wave as she walked out with Sarah.
Paul’s lab notebook was still open on the table. How had he watched Gretchen so closely and not noticed she was ready to leave? He stuffed the notebook in his bag, grabbed a calculator and a pen, then zipped it up. She was outside before he made it to the hallway. Another class was also streaming towards the door. Paul got his backpack on both shoulders and, despite his hurry, held the door for the person behind him.
Gretchen had a purple cable-knit sweater she liked on these cold days. That and her blond hair shining in the sun were easy to spot in the crowd. She was halfway to the chapel though. He’d have to run or call out for her to wait. That didn’t sound super casual. Something whispered a reminder about having one more chance. Was that guidance from the Holy Spirit or cowardice? He knew which he wanted to believe. Aside from that, waiting just somehow felt right. Paul didn’t sit with anyone at Mass, but hope for the next time was still beside him.
To be continued…
Tuesday, November 10, 2026
Thursday, October 15, 2026
Fiction Returns
A guy named Paul will be a minor character in my next book, and he wanted his own story. He gets to star in the three-part short story that you are about to read. We both hope you enjoy it.
----
He had three chances. Including today, there were three classes before the final. The final would be at some odd time, not right before Mass. It was entirely possible that he’d have a class with Gretchen next semester or that he could find her at a meal or some event on campus. But it was unlikely he’d have such a simple and convenient opportunity after these three classes.
He planned to ask if he could sit with her at Mass, a clear indication that he wanted to spend time with her outside of class. All he had to do was walk out near her. It was a small class, thirteen people today since someone was apparently sick, so the positioning shouldn’t be difficult. He had three perfect chances, starting today.
But first, he had to pay attention to the chemistry professor, Dr. Fonch. Gretchen was a serious student. She would not be impressed if Paul appeared to be daydreaming in class. Dr. Fonch had posed a question about faith in science.
“Not faith as in belief in God,” Dr. Fonch continued, “but the broader sense of trust. What are some examples of having trust when studying science?”
Paul raised his hand, and when the professor nodded at him, he said, “I have faith in gravity. I trust that if I trip, I will hit the ground.”
Gretchen smiled. Did she think he was entertaining or dismiss him as a clown?
“True.” Dr. Fonch approved of his answer anyway. “We trust constants to stay constant.” Then he called on Gretchen.
“We trust that everyone is using the same constants,” she said. “If, for example, I broke a ruler because I forgot it was in my bag when I dropped this massive chemistry textbook into it, then I can go buy a new ruler and trust that everything I measure with it will come out the same as when I measured it with the old ruler.”
“Okay.” The professor took a few more examples before he wrapped up the discussion for the day and reminded everyone which pages to read in preparation for a lab before the next class.
Paul tried to time packing up his things with the speed that Gretchen gathered hers. He hoisted his backpack over his shoulder as she reached the doorway and then took a few big steps to close the distance.
But Zach was waiting for him in the hallway. “Hannah bailed! We need another girl or we can’t play.”
“What?” Paul tried to split his focus between the problem of keeping up with Gretchen and the one presented by his friend. Their intramural volleyball team needed three girls, and they’d just talked Hannah into being the third. He motioned for Zach to walk while he explained.
“She claims I didn’t tell her the games might go really late, and maybe I didn’t because I didn’t know eleven o’clock was really late.”
Gretchen held the outside door for them and smiled as Paul thanked her. Maybe he and Zach could keep pace with her and Sarah, who was already walking with her.
Zach had the same idea, or at least a different idea with the same goal. “Hey, Gretchen! Sarah! Do either of you play volleyball?”
Sarah shook her head.
Gretchen said, “Not well.”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re no good,” Zach said. “We just want a female body on the floor.” He winced at Paul as he realized that sounded a little weird.
Both the girls gave him a concerned look.
Paul subtly indicated that he would not try to help his friend out of that particular hole.
“I mean, uh… you’d be doing us a favor just by showing up because we can’t play at all unless we have three g- women.”
“But if you only have three, I’d have to be on the court the whole time,” Gretchen said. “I don’t think that would do anyone any favors.”
Zach turned back to Sarah with his eyes wide and pleading.
It took her a few seconds to notice since they were all walking towards the chapel. When she glanced his way, she laughed and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever played volleyball in my life.”
Paul’s attention had stayed on Gretchen, and though it wasn’t what he wanted to ask her, he said, “Are you sure you can’t play?”
Her expression softened. “When’s the first game?”
“Not until January,” Zach said, “but we have to turn in a roster before finals because no one wants to do any organizing over Christmas.”
She nodded understanding at that sentiment. She bit the side of her lip as her forehead creased.
Paul didn’t want to see that much wrestling on her face when he finally asked about sitting with her. For this, he gave her a hopeful and hopefully charming smile.
“Keep looking,” she said eventually. “Then ask me again at the last minute if you haven’t convinced anyone else.”
“Come on.” Zach punched Paul in the arm as he motioned him away from Gretchen. “We have a few minutes. We can hound girls going into Mass.”
Gretchen might have rolled her eyes and Sarah definitely did. Paul decided that the atmosphere of the moment was not the best time to seek more of Gretchen’s time.
----
He had three chances. Including today, there were three classes before the final. The final would be at some odd time, not right before Mass. It was entirely possible that he’d have a class with Gretchen next semester or that he could find her at a meal or some event on campus. But it was unlikely he’d have such a simple and convenient opportunity after these three classes.
He planned to ask if he could sit with her at Mass, a clear indication that he wanted to spend time with her outside of class. All he had to do was walk out near her. It was a small class, thirteen people today since someone was apparently sick, so the positioning shouldn’t be difficult. He had three perfect chances, starting today.
But first, he had to pay attention to the chemistry professor, Dr. Fonch. Gretchen was a serious student. She would not be impressed if Paul appeared to be daydreaming in class. Dr. Fonch had posed a question about faith in science.
“Not faith as in belief in God,” Dr. Fonch continued, “but the broader sense of trust. What are some examples of having trust when studying science?”
Paul raised his hand, and when the professor nodded at him, he said, “I have faith in gravity. I trust that if I trip, I will hit the ground.”
Gretchen smiled. Did she think he was entertaining or dismiss him as a clown?
“True.” Dr. Fonch approved of his answer anyway. “We trust constants to stay constant.” Then he called on Gretchen.
“We trust that everyone is using the same constants,” she said. “If, for example, I broke a ruler because I forgot it was in my bag when I dropped this massive chemistry textbook into it, then I can go buy a new ruler and trust that everything I measure with it will come out the same as when I measured it with the old ruler.”
“Okay.” The professor took a few more examples before he wrapped up the discussion for the day and reminded everyone which pages to read in preparation for a lab before the next class.
Paul tried to time packing up his things with the speed that Gretchen gathered hers. He hoisted his backpack over his shoulder as she reached the doorway and then took a few big steps to close the distance.
But Zach was waiting for him in the hallway. “Hannah bailed! We need another girl or we can’t play.”
“What?” Paul tried to split his focus between the problem of keeping up with Gretchen and the one presented by his friend. Their intramural volleyball team needed three girls, and they’d just talked Hannah into being the third. He motioned for Zach to walk while he explained.
“She claims I didn’t tell her the games might go really late, and maybe I didn’t because I didn’t know eleven o’clock was really late.”
Gretchen held the outside door for them and smiled as Paul thanked her. Maybe he and Zach could keep pace with her and Sarah, who was already walking with her.
Zach had the same idea, or at least a different idea with the same goal. “Hey, Gretchen! Sarah! Do either of you play volleyball?”
Sarah shook her head.
Gretchen said, “Not well.”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re no good,” Zach said. “We just want a female body on the floor.” He winced at Paul as he realized that sounded a little weird.
Both the girls gave him a concerned look.
Paul subtly indicated that he would not try to help his friend out of that particular hole.
“I mean, uh… you’d be doing us a favor just by showing up because we can’t play at all unless we have three g- women.”
“But if you only have three, I’d have to be on the court the whole time,” Gretchen said. “I don’t think that would do anyone any favors.”
Zach turned back to Sarah with his eyes wide and pleading.
It took her a few seconds to notice since they were all walking towards the chapel. When she glanced his way, she laughed and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever played volleyball in my life.”
Paul’s attention had stayed on Gretchen, and though it wasn’t what he wanted to ask her, he said, “Are you sure you can’t play?”
Her expression softened. “When’s the first game?”
“Not until January,” Zach said, “but we have to turn in a roster before finals because no one wants to do any organizing over Christmas.”
She nodded understanding at that sentiment. She bit the side of her lip as her forehead creased.
Paul didn’t want to see that much wrestling on her face when he finally asked about sitting with her. For this, he gave her a hopeful and hopefully charming smile.
“Keep looking,” she said eventually. “Then ask me again at the last minute if you haven’t convinced anyone else.”
“Come on.” Zach punched Paul in the arm as he motioned him away from Gretchen. “We have a few minutes. We can hound girls going into Mass.”
Gretchen might have rolled her eyes and Sarah definitely did. Paul decided that the atmosphere of the moment was not the best time to seek more of Gretchen’s time.
Thursday, September 17, 2026
More Useless Ideas
I made an offhand comment last month that I’d list a few methods for curing writer’s block that don’t work. I started to have second thoughts when I sat down to do that. Why would I write about things that aren’t helpful? That sounds very… not helpful.
Then I remembered that quote about not failing 100 times but finding 100 ways not to do something. Maybe my list can shorten the number of times someone else doesn’t fail.
1) I already covered freewriting.
2) Trying to write in a new environment has been suggested. Think about this for a minute. This advice basically says, if you’re having trouble concentrating on your project, go look for distractions. If your familiar quiet room isn’t working for you, try to write at a restaurant where people will be banging and chattering in the kitchen, or at a public park where strangers will think the fact that you’re staring at a notebook means you’d like to talk about the weather. That’s wonderful for concentration.
3) I’ve seen more than one list of ideas that includes drinking coffee. There are two types of people in the world: those who don’t drink coffee and those who already drink too much. More coffee is unlikely to make a difference for the latter and sounds like a hassle to the former, who don’t have it in the house and probably don’t like it anyway. Unless you want to write authentically about following bad advice, skip the coffee solution.
4) Some people say writing prompts are a good idea. I don’t completely disagree. These can be useful in a general sense. Trying to write about different settings, emotions and actions can help stretch and strengthen the writing muscles. But it doesn’t help when a specific part of your story isn’t working. You can think of ten different ways someone might react to a bad Christmas present, and none of them will get your spaceship off the ground.
5) One of my favorite pieces of advice is to try to think out loud. This goes back to the coffee thing where there are only two types of people. There are normal people, and there are people who don’t need this suggestion. Anyone who hasn’t figured out that talking to yourself is a great way to accomplish many tasks, including sorting out the dialog or direction of a story, is unlikely to be convinced by some random person putting it on a list.
I guess this random person probably shouldn’t be making lists either. I’ll go back to talking to myself. I mean, I’ll go back to writing a story.
Then I remembered that quote about not failing 100 times but finding 100 ways not to do something. Maybe my list can shorten the number of times someone else doesn’t fail.
1) I already covered freewriting.
2) Trying to write in a new environment has been suggested. Think about this for a minute. This advice basically says, if you’re having trouble concentrating on your project, go look for distractions. If your familiar quiet room isn’t working for you, try to write at a restaurant where people will be banging and chattering in the kitchen, or at a public park where strangers will think the fact that you’re staring at a notebook means you’d like to talk about the weather. That’s wonderful for concentration.
3) I’ve seen more than one list of ideas that includes drinking coffee. There are two types of people in the world: those who don’t drink coffee and those who already drink too much. More coffee is unlikely to make a difference for the latter and sounds like a hassle to the former, who don’t have it in the house and probably don’t like it anyway. Unless you want to write authentically about following bad advice, skip the coffee solution.
4) Some people say writing prompts are a good idea. I don’t completely disagree. These can be useful in a general sense. Trying to write about different settings, emotions and actions can help stretch and strengthen the writing muscles. But it doesn’t help when a specific part of your story isn’t working. You can think of ten different ways someone might react to a bad Christmas present, and none of them will get your spaceship off the ground.
5) One of my favorite pieces of advice is to try to think out loud. This goes back to the coffee thing where there are only two types of people. There are normal people, and there are people who don’t need this suggestion. Anyone who hasn’t figured out that talking to yourself is a great way to accomplish many tasks, including sorting out the dialog or direction of a story, is unlikely to be convinced by some random person putting it on a list.
I guess this random person probably shouldn’t be making lists either. I’ll go back to talking to myself. I mean, I’ll go back to writing a story.
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