Short Stories by Brad Preslar Twenty-three year old Brad Preslar is from from Winston-Salem, North Carolina, and now lives in Richmond, VA.
He is a recent graduate, (May 99) of Wake Forest University, and now works in Account Management at Capital One.
When he's not at work Brad spends his time writing, and playing sports. He enjoys mountain biking, running, racquetball and Jiu-Jitsu. Brad says he likes trying new things, and learning how to do things he didn't know I could do.
Brad Preslar says, " I hate being told I can't do something. I like to cook, and to eat. I hate overcooked steaks. I like the feeling in your stomach that you get right before you do something that frightens you. I hate it when the fear wins.
I hope to finish my first novel within the next year. I write because I have to. It's a way to express things that must be said, and a way to share things that will not be silent. Life is too short to not say what you think."
Love and Fear at Big Burger It seemed like such a good idea last night and even this morning, but then, in the break room at Big Burger, I wasn't sure. My idea seemed no good anymore, dumb even. Dumb like me. I was afraid that's what she'd say. This note is dumb.
I'm scared of her laughing at me. I think it's because she's not like the others. She doesn't stare while I add up her order or giggle when I give her the wrong change. That happens to me lots. It's hard for me to make change, you know, to get to exactly a dollar. I'm not like Steve on the drive-through. He just knows. Sometimes I watch him when I'm not busy.
"That'll be $5.63, sir," he'll say. "Out of ten, and $4.37 is your change." He's so smart, he doesn't even type it into the register. Bill, my manager, says that every time I give change I have to type it into the register. Every time. He's nice to me, but he laughs at me too, sometimes. Sometimes he calls me things, and I don't know what they mean, like all last week, he called me his prodigy. He said it was a good name, it meant smart. I knew that wasn't true. I'm not smart. I'm just not.
It took me four tries to get the note right. At first it didn't say the right things, and then sometimes I would mess up a word, and you couldn't read it, and then I left out a part, but I did get it okay at the end. I didn't know what to say at first. It's because I'm not sure what her name is. People call her different things. Sometimes it's "Pookie" or "Mer". Once I heard "Meredith", so that's what I used. "Dear Meredith," I started. I hope I spelled it right. I think even if I spelled it wrong, she wouldn't care. She always smiles at me, and she wants to know things about me, like how I'm doing, how my day has been, stuff like that. When I go slow on the register, lots of people say, "hurry up." She says, "take your time."
She's very pretty, too. Everyone thinks so. Even Steve. Last week he said a good thing about her, and I didn't understand it, but he said it meant she was pretty. I thought, "If Steve said it, it must be smart." So I put it in my letter.
"Dear Meredith, You have a great rack," I wrote. It sounds like a strange way to say to someone that they are pretty, but Steve said it, so it must be right. I told him about my letter, and how I said that, and he said that she would know what it meant. After that, I told her she was nice, much nicer than all the other people I meet. Then I wrote some more about how pretty she was, and how good she smelled. Last, I put in that she makes me feel good when she is nice to me. I said, "When you come in to the store, I feel so good. You smile, and you are nice to me. I like you." Then I signed it, "Love, Curtis". With a little heart, like Steve told me to. I was afraid to say "love" at first, but then Steve said it was smooth, whatever that is.
After break I went back to work, and I was scared then, but when it came time I was ready. I knew she wouldn't laugh. She's too good for that. Even if she did laugh, I thought no one would see, because she always comes later, after lunch. She comes at 3:15 every day.
When 3:15 came, I was ready and had the note in my drawer, so I could give it to her with her change. She came in alone, smiled, and asked how I was doing. I said good, and she ordered. While she paid and I counted her change I put the note in the three ones I handed her, like the register said to, and gave it all to her. At first she didn't know what it was, but when she figured it out, she went to her table to read it. She smiled while she read it, but she only looked up at me twice while she ate her whole meal. Finally, she got up and came to the counter.
"This is very sweet Curtis. Thanks. This makes me feel good, too." Then she touched my hand and turned away. As she left, she waved goodbye. She never came back.
I don't know why she didn't come back, but I know that I made her feel good. Sometimes I think I smell her perfume, but it's never her. There are other pretty girls that come in sometimes, but none are as pretty as her. I wish she would come back, but it doesn't make it so. I miss her.
After I gave her my note, Steve started calling me Romeo. I think he's not all that smart, he can't even remember my name. I always remind him, and it even says Curtis on my nametag, but he always forgets. It doesn't bother me all that much, he did help me with my note, and it did make Meredith feel good. What makes me happy is that I got to do for her what she did for me. I made her feel good.