Advice from a Friend

  The sky was overcast and a cold breeze blew across the coffee shop’s patio. Derek was waiting for me outside the shop, reading a news magazine and unfazed by the cold.

  “How’s the story going?” He looked over the magazine at me.    He was one of two people I could discuss my writing with. The other person was my second ex-wife, but she stopped talking to me after she got married again.
  That day he seemed more interested in the news. Or maybe he was tired of listening to me complain about the story I was writing.
  “Not going at all,” I said.
  “Oh, what’s wrong?” He turned a page.
  “My characters. Every time I get one scene done in which a character interacts with another, I run into a brick wall. How to move onto the next scene.”
  “Oh, too bad. Did you know war has broken out in Sudan?”
  “Uh, no. But as I was saying, Lydia . . . “
  “Lydia? Who’s she?” He  sipped coffee from his mug.
  “I told you before. The wife of Claude, the main character. Don’t you remember?”
  He merely grunted.

“Well, she’s got psychological issues that come into play later in the story.”
  He grunted again and then said, “It says in the article, hundreds of Sudanese have been killed and thousands are fleeing for their safety.”
  “Yeah, well, that’s tragic. I got problems to. How can I end this story? I’ve been working on it for the longest time. And it’s a short story.”
  “It also says here major geopolitical dimensions are at play. Major powers are battling for influence in Sudan.”
  “Who cares about that? Oh, hey, maybe the major powers can suggest an ending to my story.”
  He closed the magazine. “You know what your problem is?”
  “Tell me.”
  “You’re too wrapped up in your writing. You should pay attention to what’s going on around you.”
  “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I told you. Pay more attention to what’s going on around you.” He tossed the magazine on my lap.
  “I’m not interested in world affairs,” I said.
  “Then maybe you should be more interested in something closer to home. How’s your daughter and your grandson? Contacted them lately?”
  The question hit me hard. “That was a low blow. You know I’m having trouble with her. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”
  He put his hat on. “Too bad. I’m going. I’m tired of listening to you moan about your writing.”
  So typical of Derek. Leaving me with no solutions on how to end the short story or how to solve a problem in the family. I sat for a long time staring at nothing in particular. I reached for my coffee and the magazine fell from my lap. I picked it up and noticed the headline about the war in Sudan. I opened it to the article and started reading.