It was a rainy night in Dusseldorf, but not nearly as stormy as the hotel room Tomas left behind. He pushed past the doorman, ignoring his friendly and unintelligible warning, and stepped out into the darkened streets.
The rain beat mercilessly against the pavement. Every passing car splashed miniature tidal waves over the sidewalks. The deafening hiss drowned out the echo of Tia’s voice: Especially considering why we’re here!
Wind-driven rain stung his skin. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and hunkered into the depths of his coat. After today’s failure, the last in a long string, this whole trip seemed an expensive lesson in futility. He mocked himself for thinking he could find any information about the father who’d disappeared when he was four years old. He had only fragmented memories of the man–narrow, hooked nose, booming voice, and the scent of Old Spice.
Tomas didn’t see the lump of rags until the impact knocked his legs out from under him. He sprawled in a puddle. “What are you doing, sitting in the middle of the sidewalk?” he demanded furiously, swiping uselessly at his clothes.
Dull eyes stared back, nearly lost in a tangle of grizzled gray. Here was a man who’d given up hope. Tomas sighed; at least he had a warm room to retreat from the early spring chill. An unexpected swell of compassion bubbled into words: “Come on, old man,” he said. “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
Did those lifeless eyes flicker? Impossible to be sure. The man muttered incoherently. Tomas put a hand beneath the ragged elbow and raised him upright.
The gleaming cafe felt simultaneously welcoming and foreign. Tomas ordered schnecken and coffees. They ate in silence, Tomas slowly, the old man greedily, the corners of his mouth growing sticky with half-chewed bread. It rather stole Tomas’s meager appetite. “Where you from?” he asked, but the response, garbled by schnecken fragments, revealed nothing. At length, Tomas shoved his plate across the table. The vagrant paused, eyed him suspiciously, then tore into the second pastry.
Tomas studied him as he had studied every face on this trip, looking for remembered features that grew muddier with every new visage he encountered. Hooked nose, but bulbous. Definitely not a booming voice.
“It’s just that I don’t know how to be a father,” he burst out. “I never had one. How can Tia expect me to start a family of my own?”
The vagrant paused, stared shrewdly at him, then returned to chewing. Suddenly, Tomas felt petty. This man had nothing. At least he had Tia. Tia, who’d gone without birthday and Christmas gifts to make this trip possible.
Who really knew how to be a father, anyway? All his friends insisted parenthood was learned on the job. What would it be like to study the face of another human being, one with his ears and her eyes?
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “I’ve got to go.” He dropped a few Euros on the table and dashed out the door to stop for champagne and roses on the way back to the hotel.
Today’s assignment at Write On Edge was 500 words, to begin with “It was a rainy night in Dusseldorf.” Okay, so I’m over by 18 words. I tried. Concrits welcome–rip ‘er up, folks! 🙂
Kathleen M. Basi 
I would like the next 5000+ words, please 🙂
You are amazing with sensory detail and descriptions. You make really see the characters and the streets. I absolutely adored this line, “Every passing car splashed miniature tidal waves over the sidewalks.” That’s such a great image:~)
I liked that you didn’t make the vagrant suddenly give Tomas words of wisdom, but let Tomas figure it out himself. Given his compassion, I’m pretty sure he’ll make a great father.
This was a good story, especially to read on a very rainy day (for real!)
Sara, what a wonderful commentary! Thank you!
I really liked this. You showed the emotions of Tomas quite well
Really enjoyed reading your post. Your descriptions are fabulous! Like Diana, I want to know more. 🙂
Great imagery, Kate….
Excellent imagery. This was an easy read. Brilliantly written, it’s hard to find anything to “Let ‘er rip” about! 🙂 My only critique is I’m not sure about this line: The deafening hiss drowned out the echo of Tia’s voice: Especially considering why we’re here!
I’m assuming the “hiss” referred to passing cars, but it’s a confusing association. Cars don’t hiss so much as grumble or whine maybe. Or is it the rain hissing? Also, I’m not sure that the sound did drown or even should drown Tia’s voice. If it’s keeping him preoccupied enough not to notice the vagrant, it’s not drowned. I would use “competed against” or even “lost the fight for dominance”, or reverse it so Tia’s voice drowns out the sound of the traffic and the tempest.
I loved this post. It was tender and driven at the same time, a delicate balance achieved here. Very Well Done!
That’s a good thought. I was trying to evoke the noise of rain and cars running through puddles, but you’re right, if he could still hear her voice enough for him to plow into the vagrant, it wasn’t really drowned out. 🙂
Beautiful! Your short stories inspire me and make me want to write the stories I don’t have time to write!
You imply several points of conflict. Has Tia given up so much just for Tomas to find his father? Are they there to make a baby or to have an abortion? “After today’s failure” so why did he leave her to sort out his thoughts. Why did the actions of a non-speaking vagrant trigger his return to Tia with champagne and roses? You have a great grid of mysteries to develop. I enjoyed it a lot.
Wow! That pulled me in from the very beginning. Your imagery is rich and believable. Hope there is more to this story!
Ooh, this is fascinating, I want to know more about these characters and their background. You got me hooked when you described his father as smelling of Old Spice, both my father and father in law use(d) this! 🙂
I like that you allowed Tomas to find his way within himself, as opposed to the vagrant being some kind of down-on-his-luck-savant.
It allows us to imagine that his compassion will make up for whatever hardships have chased him out into the rain.