avad100
Run-By-Slater
Global user
Registered: 12-2006
Posts: 26
Kindredness: 1 (+1/-0)
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Re: A Little Thing Called Faith
You'll see... here's part of the first chapter, respond here if you like. 
1. The News
My name is Phil. Phil Hampton. Actually my real name is Phillip. That’s what it says on my birth certificate. Phillip Gilbert Hampton is scribbled across horizon of a black line with the word NAME underneath. Arched above it, is the usual ‘It’s a Boy!’ and a thin gold boarder encloses it all together. Most people don’t know what their birth certificate looks like, or at least the ones I know. But my father has it framed. It hangs above his desk in his study at work. Amongst all the PhD’s and Masters degrees, is my birth certificate. It doesn’t stand out too much, unless you know its there. Kind of like me. I don’t stand out in the crowd, but when you notice me, even with a passing glance, you’ll know and remember that I am and later, was, there. I guess I’d better introduce myself. I’m a 32 year old man, a lawyer, and I was an only child. My straight brown hair has already begun graying at the tips, although it really shouldn’t. But I grew up too fast, that’s what everyone tells me. I’m not too sure I regret it though. I was never really one to play on the play ground at recess or get in food fights at lunch. I was never bullied, nor did I have that many friends. I had one close friend, Rob. Robert Stevens was my best friend all though middle school and into high school. Then in ninth grade he was killed in a car accident. I’ve never been close to anyone ever since. But it makes no difference; I was never really a people person any way. I don’t get along with them. I click with very few people, and it’s rare for me to talk with someone unless it’s necessary. Most people don’t care if I don’t talk to them any way. In fact I’m sure they prefer it. I don’t blame them. They look at my eyes and see hard, cold gray ones staring back. I tell you, my eyes are like ice. The only people that can stand them either have harder colder eyes or just aren’t afraid of them. Besides my parents, I know only two people like that, Mrs. Merridan and Dan Clevonich. Mrs. Merridan just isn’t afraid of them; she has so much authority in our building that she knows no one can hurt her. So my eyes aren’t a threat. Dan has eyes even harder and colder than mine. Only his eyes are black, which makes them even spookier and gives them more depth. I took his position when I started working here. That’s why he hates me so much and harasses me constantly. I don’t blame him though, I would probably act the same way if it happened to me.
I stepped out of my boss’s office and began making my way down the hall towards my own. Then I spotted Dan Clevonich and turned around. I knew I wouldn’t get to my office by going in the other direction but, as foresaid, I can’t stand Dan and I’ll do anything to avoid him. I took about three steps before I realized that Mrs. Merridan was at the other end of the hall. I was trapped. I knew I would rather avoid Dan than Mrs. Merridan, but Mrs. Merridan would pull her ‘evil’ act on me, and right now I did not feel like dealing with it. Why can’t my desk be in the middle of this floor? Better yet, on a different floor? Dan began to make his way over to me and Mrs. Merridan caught my eye. Unless I wanted to be stuck with both of them I had to make my move fast. Quickly I darted into the elevator and lucky for me, the doors closed quickly after I entered. I found myself riding down to the main lobby with Ms. Donner and a young couple I didn’t recognize. Ms. Donner was my boss’s secretary. Mr. Borton, my boss, often sent her out down to the lobby to get him a coffee, and always managed to give her enough money to treat herself to one too. He’s a nice enough guy, especially for a boss, and although I don’t click with him, he and I manage to get along pretty well. The elevator came to an abrupt halt and the doors slid open, squeaking all the way. Our janitorial staff needs to do a better job of oiling this thing.
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"Of course they're nice, the daughters of Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley couldn't help being nice." ~Anthony Lennox, Road to Yesterday~
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1/6/2007, 7:58 am
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avad100
Run-By-Slater
Global user
Registered: 12-2006
Posts: 26
Kindredness: 1 (+1/-0)
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Re: A Little Thing Called Faith
Once in the lobby, I went into the staff room and sat down with a copy of Food & Wine. I’m no chef, and I doubt I ever will be, but it’s always fun to glance through a recipe magazine and look at the exotic foods that some people actually try to make. I’m able to whip-up spaghetti and salads pretty well, and canned soups and chilis are easy enough for me to make, but all the fancy gourmet filet mignon and seafood dishes are beyond my culinary skills. I realized that looking at food made me hungry, and the fact that I hadn’t eaten since before nine this morning suddenly got to me. I went over to the security desk and buzzed up to Mr. Borton.
“Yes?” I heard Marilyn’s, a.k.a. Ms. Donner’s, voice crackle though
the speaker. I held the talk button and said, “Ms. Donner, this is Phillip, would you connect me to Mr. Borton please?”
“I’m sorry Mr. Hampton, but Mr. Borton is in a meeting right now. Would you like to leave a message?”
“Yeah,” I replied slowly. I didn’t know if he’d let me take my lunch break now or not. Although, the case I had been working on had just been closed this morning and we won it. I decided to take the plunge. “Tell Al that I’m taking my lunch break.”
“Alright. Is that all?”
“Yes.” I replied. I let go of the ‘talk’ button and shuffled over to the revolving door. Just then I realized that although I had my wallet, my coat was up in my office. Rather than going up and getting it I pushed my way through the revolving doors and began strolling down the busy streets of Chicago in the 40 degree weather. I shoved my hands in my pockets as far as they would go and scrunched my shoulders so that they were centimeters away from my ears lobes. Even with my fist shoved deep into my pockets, knuckles getting scratched by the seam, and my collar up with shoulders scrunched, I learned that a button down dress shirt & trousers weren’t enough to keep me warm. I gave in to the stinging wind and half stumbled, half walked into the nearest Starbucks.
I ordered, paid and sat down. I heard the “The Entertainer” music and looked around to try and locate where it was coming from. I took me a while to realize that my cell phone was ringing. I really wish I knew how to change the ring tone. I looked at the caller ID to see who was calling. ‘Boss’ it read. ‘435-8625’. I swallowed hard before I flipped it open.
“Hello?” I whispered into the phone.
“Phillip? Ah, yes. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve found another case for you to work on.” Mr. Borton nearly sang into the phone.
“Thank you sir. What is it about?”
“Well some broad by the name of Rita Estes wants to sue McDonalds for finding some flies in her milkshake. Nothing big, but I suspect I won’t have any good ones for awhile now. Oh, and by the way, you’ll be working with someone new. She moves into the empty office next to yours tomorrow. Her name is Ms. Gordon I believe,” he said. I was silent. Someone called my order from the counter and I walked up to get it.
“Phillip?” my boss questioned into the phone. I took the wax paper off my pumpkin bread and held it up to the mouth piece. I began crushing it between my fingers it and said,
“Hello?” crumple, “I can’t…” crumple, “hear you…” crumple, crumple. Then I snapped the phone shut.
She. Her. The words resounded over and over again in my head. I had never worked closely with a...She. I didn’t like to work with people. How would I handle working together with a...She? The only…She’s I knew were my mother, my aunt, and my ex-girlfriend Jennifer. I didn’t even associate with her anymore. I was going to work with a…She. A She was going to move into the empty office next to mine. I processed the information in my head and pondered it a few times. I’m not too sure I’m very keen on the idea of a She. What if she’s a Mrs. Merridan type of She? Always nagging and asking pointless questions? Or worse yet, what if she’s a flirty She? I wonder what She will be like…
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"Of course they're nice, the daughters of Gilbert Blythe and Anne Shirley couldn't help being nice." ~Anthony Lennox, Road to Yesterday~
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1/11/2007, 4:26 pm
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greencarrots
Looking for Lunch
Global user
Registered: 01-2007
Location: Chi-Town
Posts: 88
Kindredness: 3 (+3/-0)
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Re: A Little Thing Called Faith
2. She…has a name: Faith
The next morning I was reluctant to go to work. Ms. Gordon was moving in, or had already moved in, today. I fiddled with my keys as if they would give me the answer to my problems. I was all set to go, and there was still time to stop at Mo Jo’s for a cup of coffee. I dropped my keys in my coat pocket and zipped up my North Face jacket. I took a deep breath and marched to and out the door. I shut it and locked it, locking my fear inside my apartment. I found I grew more confident as I commuted to work.
Ding…
“Doors opening,” the mechanical voice announced. I stepped on to the Red Line platform and looked northeast. I could see the back of my office building from here. Suddenly, I got butterflies in my stomach again, and the fear I had locked inside my apartment 15 minutes ago, somehow found me. I thought,
“In less than 10 minutes, I’m going to find out who…She is and what… She is like.” The butterflies fluttered more violently. I felt an odd mixture of bewilderment, nervousness, annoyance and a tinge of excitement. It was the strangest thing.
“Doors closing.” The mechanical voice snapped me out of my reverie and I continued down the steps toward my office.
I pushed though the front doors of my office building and a chorus of “Hello Mr. Hampton,” and “Good morning Mr. Hampton,” flooded my ears. I wasn’t paying attention, but occasionally nodded to gesture a good morning to random people. As soon as the elevator doors opened I slipped inside and started pressing the ‘Door Close’ button until they slowly started squeaking shut. I exhaled once I was in the isolated safety of the elevator. Unfortunately the elevator reached the 17th floor a lot more quickly than usual and I was listing to the chorus of hellos and good mornings all over again. I pushed my way past employees and co-workers until I was in front of my office. I grabbed my keys out of my pocket and twisted the lock until my door flew open. I bolted inside and locked my door. I fell into my chair, and relaxed while it rolled backwards towards the window. I swiveled around and looked out my window over Chicago. I couldn’t see everything, but I could see the busy streets below me and the people who looked as if they were in fast forward, trying to catch a train or meet a date or get to a meeting. It was as if I was watching a movie, but I learned that these kinds of movies have a lot more intermissions than the ones you rent from blockbuster, or go to the Davis to see. Fate used the intermissions to her advantage, and to my displeasure. I heard a rapping on my door. Intermission. I swiveled around in my chair so I could see the door. I was debating on whether or not to get up and open it when I heard a woman’s voice call my name.
“Mr. Hampton?” she inquired into the door. My heart stopped, I was silent.
“Mr. Hampton?” she inquired again. It was the She. I knew I would have to get it over with sometime. I was supposed to be working on a case with her. I collected myself, and got up to unlock the door. I opened it just a little bit and peered out to catch a glimpse of the She before I let her in. I caught my breath. She was incredibly bewitching. Her chestnut-colored hair fell in soft curls down to her shoulders. Her sapphire eyes sparkled and glowed as if they were a little part of the ocean. She was a petite woman, yet she didn’t seem very lady-like or fragile. She wasn’t America’s Next Top Model gorgeous; she had a different beauty about her. It was more of a natural beauty. Her fair alabaster skin seemed to shine where it slipped out of her high purple collar and the ends of her quarter length sleeves; there was something about her that was oddly enchanting. Her dainty mouth twisted into a smile once I opened the door.
“Are you going to let me in, or are we going to work on the case like this?” she asked with a surprising amount of confidence. I snorted to myself and opened the door to let her in and closed it behind her. When I turned around she had already made herself comfortable in my chair.
“Excuse me Miss Gordon but that is my chair,” I said, emphasizing my.
“Oh, I know Mr. Hampton. I don’t mean to be rude, but I want a new chair for my office. My current one doesn’t swivel around,” She swiveled in my chair as if showing me how much better it was. “Where’d ya get it?” she asked.
“Office Depot,” I answered, then shook my head and did a double take. “Ms. Gordon-” I began, but she cut me off.
“Call me Faith. That’s my name. What’s your name Mr. Hampton?” I sighed heavily.
“Phillip, now Ms.-”
“It’s Faith and I’m going to call you Phil if that’s alright with you.” No one had ever given me a nickname before. And those who attempted usually got a cold stare from me and didn’t try again. But I was so focused at trying to get to my point that I simply agreed to her suggestion and continued to say what I was trying to say. It wasn’t until later that I realized what I agreed to and what I got myself into. I was to learn later that Faith was a very stubborn person.
“Faith, we are not here to discuss names and talk about office chairs. We are here to work on the case we were assigned to and that is what I plan to do. Now Ms…. Faith please get out of my chair, make yourself comfortable over here and let’s get to work. Sound good?” I offered rather curtly, exasperation was straining every muscle in my body. She looked a little hurt at first but then obligingly got up and sat down where she was supposed to. Working with her wasn’t as awful as I imagined it to be. The first half an hour was a little tense; I think she was still hurt about what I said earlier. But soon conversation flowed fluently between us and I found her to be a very charming, delightful person. She wasn’t flirty or nosy. In fact, she had a fiancé. His name was Eric and he was a real-estate agent for URB. She told me how Eric, being a real-estate agent and all, shows houses at odd times sometimes and travels occasionally.
“When’s the wedding?” I asked as I typed the client’s name, R-i-t-a
E-s-t-e-s into the people finder software I was supplied with on the first day of work.
“It’s set for next summer,” she replied. “Hey Phil, are you dating any one?”
I didn’t answer, I wasn’t used to being called Phil and I forgot that I agreed to let her call me that a little over three hours ago.
“Phil?” she inquired again. I looked up at her.
“Where are going to have the wedding?” I asked
“Phil, you didn’t answer my question!” she exclaimed with outrage. It was then that I realized she called me Phil. I was about to glare at her and give her the cold shoulder when I remembered that it wasn’t going to help our case.
“My name is Phillip,” I said rather bluntly, and then I turned to continue researching our client and McDonalds.
“I know Phillip is your name, but you said I could call you Phil,” she said reproachfully. I had forgotten about our earlier conversation that I wasn’t paying attention to. So that was what I agreed to. I agreed to let her call me Phil.
I pondered a while before I said, “Well, I would prefer you call me Phillip. Nobody calls me Phil, and I’m not fond of the name.” But she wasn’t going to let me get away with it.
“You said that I could call you Phil and that is what I plan on doing, Phil,” she persisted stubbornly, accenting the word Phil. I cringed.
“I didn’t mean to agree to it, I was distracted. Can’t you consider a guy’s feelings?” I retorted.
“Well, Mr. Hampton, maybe you better pay more attention next time, hmm? Whether or not you were paying attention doesn’t change the fact that you agreed to let me call you Phil.”
“A-” I started, but she cut me off immediately.
“You allowed me to call you Phil and Phil is what I intend to call you. If you are so repulsive of the name Phil then maybe you better think twice before you say anything,” she huffed. Her eyes were ablaze and holding my gaze so intensely that it felt as if she was crushing it, not holding it. I had the feeling that she was going to call me Phil whether I liked it or not, so I gave up, without saying a word, and went back to work. I could feel her triumphant look boring holes into my neck. It was only 2:15 but I had had enough, enough of Faith.
“I’m leaving,” I said shortly. I threw my jacket on, packed up and left my office, deserting Faith behind my office doors.
When I got home that night I began to wonder if I had been too abrupt and rude with my leaving. There was something about Faith that made me want to apologize. Something about her made me want to talk to her, to get to know her. And yet I was still very unsocial. She didn’t make me want to start a conversation with Marilyn, or get to know my landlord, Greg. I just seemed to want to talk with her and understand her. Help her understand me. And yet, I didn’t. Faith confused me.
(I'm avad100, i changed my screen name)
 (I don't know why i put the garfield there, i just felt like it)
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(I'm Avad100)
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1/19/2007, 8:34 pm
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greencarrots
Looking for Lunch
Global user
Registered: 01-2007
Location: Chi-Town
Posts: 88
Kindredness: 3 (+3/-0)
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Re: A Little Thing Called Faith
3. More Than Acquaintances
The next morning I found my self quickly getting ready for work. Remembering how just the day before I had been fiddling with my keys, nervous to meet Faith. I prepared some coffee even though I’m not very fond of the stuff, but I was awake most of the night anxious for my next encounter with Faith, so I needed some caffeine. I felt like a lonely puppy, desperate to see a friendly face, so I proceeded to get ready for work in a speedy manner. I was finally ready to make the 20 minute commute to the office. 20 minutes until I saw Faith. I practically sprinted outside. I found myself at my car door, keys in hand, and I then realized that I had no shoes or socks on my feet. I ran back in the house and I put on a pair of white socks and my favorite black shoes. I again ran out to my car, and drove to work.
I didn’t really feel like searching for a parking spot so I just used valet parking. To the casual eye, I appeared to be calm, cool and collected, but I inside felt like I was a child on a rollercoaster, like my insides were going to spill out any minute. The door man was polite as usual and opened the door while saying good morning Mr. Hampton. I felt guilty that I didn’t acknowledge him, but I knew if I did I might lose my breakfast. I stepped onto the elevator and stared into the mirrors surrounding me. The elevator made a ding and then said, “Doors opening.” I slowly walked to my office. I sat down in my chair and remembered the day when Faith sat down in it to test the coziness because she didn’t have a chair she liked for her office yet. I slipped off my suit jacket and loosened my tie a bit. I walked to my office door, opened it, and walked to Faith’s office. I noticed that she had the same chair that I had. She wasn’t in her office so I walked back into mine. Maybe she wasn’t here today. Is she okay? Is she hurt? Was she in an accident? Did she slip and fa-…
“Phil?” Faith said interrupting my thoughts.
“Hello Faith,” I said. I was shocked to hear myself call her by her first name. I turned on my heel to face her, but found myself looking at her coffee stained blouse. There was a huge circular spot of coffee that had stained her white blouse, and covered her entire stomach. I found myself staring too long so I brought my eyes to meet hers. She giggled and proceeded to walk towards me.
“I’m such a klutz”, she said.
“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” I said.
“Yeah little Philly over here has had many more accidents.” I recognized that voice. That deep, loud, obnoxious voice that I dreaded so much to hear, especially this early in the morning. Dan Clevonich. He put his arm on my shoulders in a resting position. I picked his arm up and dropped as if it were a piece of mold, which is pretty much what I think of him. Faith could sense my discomfort.
“Come on Phil. We should start to review the case,” she said. We walked to my office.
After we reviewed the case we went to lunch. I hadn’t gone to lunch with anybody in a very long time. We walked into Costello’s, and ordered two subs. We sat down with our meals and just talked. It felt good to interact with a person other that my boss, or Dan. I got to discuss things with her that she could relate to. We sat there long after we finished eating. By the time we looked at our watches it was 3:00. We decided that it was time to go back to work. We stepped out into the cool air and I felt a drop of water on my forehead. Faith furrowed her brow and looked at me with a disappointed face. “We walked here remember!?” Faith said. “It’s okay, it’s just a little drizzle,” I said reassuringly. “Alright,” she sighed.
As Faith and I walked back to work we talked about our childhood. I was fine until we started talking about high school. Since my best friend Rob died in the 9th grade I didn’t want to talk about my childhood anymore, and was very relieved when the drizzle became poring rain. Faith and I ran back to the office. When we reached the large revolving door to the office I looked into Faith’s eyes and smiled. Nobody has made me feel this good since my best friend Rob. The door man handed us a towel after we exited the revolving door. This time I didn’t ignore him.
“Thank you very much Joe. Sorry I didn’t acknowledge you this morning. I was in a retched mood,” I said.
“It’s alright, but I can tell you’re in a much better mood now”, he said winking at me, and looking back and forth from me to Faith.
“Bye Joe,” Faith and I said in unison.
From that day forward Faith and I became extremely close. We not only talked about the case, but we also confided in each other about anything and everything. We not only became work partners, but also very close friends.
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(I'm Avad100)
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1/21/2007, 7:09 am
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