Free No Relation by Terry Fallis Page B

gave her my widest possible smile without looking crazed. I kept my hands high and visible at all times. She didn’t touch the flowers but just left them lying there on her side of the glass. She didn’t seem thrilled and looked at her phone to confirm it had not moved and was still within reach.
    “Hi again,” I started. “We got off on the wrong foot yesterday and I wanted to come back to apologize and try again.”
    She had folded her arms across her chest.
    “I don’t remember many of my customers, but I sure remember you,” she said. “If you’re gonna tell me the same story today, well, I don’t think we’re going to get along any better.”
    I pushed my passport, my last two tax returns, and four pieces of official mail, all bearing my name and address, partway through the opening in the glass. For good measure, I also shoved through my Macdonald-Clark business card. She didn’t need to know that I’d just been turfed. She furrowed her brow but pulled the documents the rest of the way through the slot.
    “I know it sounds far-fetched, but my name really is Earnest Hemmingway. I was named for my great-grandfather, who was born four years before the famous writer was,” I explained. “We’re not related in any way. Our names are even spelled differently.” I had one more card to play. “You’ve heard of The Hemmingwear Company?”
    “What, the underwear people?”
    “Right. Well, my family owns the company. I’m telling you the truth, I swear.”
    She stopped looking at me and started examining what I’d passed through to her. Then she punched some buttons on her computer, typed in my name, and up popped my file, just like that.
    “Why didn’t you bring these docs yesterday? It sure would have saved time and, you know, that little situation we had.”
    I wanted to ask why she couldn’t have just typed in my name the day before, thus saving my tailbone from a very hard landing. I bit my tongue.
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to bring them yesterday. I honestly didn’t think I’d need them. I should have brought them. I know that now. It would have avoided so much unpleasantness.”
    I hung my head in contrition, with my hands still up high where she could see them.
    Fifteen minutes later, she’d taken my photo, processed the replacement request, handed back all my documents, and then slid my shiny new driver’s licence across the counter to me. She was the picture of public service efficiency.
    “Thanks so much, and sorry about yesterday. I’d had a very bad day. I apologize for taking it out on you.”
    She smiled. Hallelujah, she smiled.
    “Can I let you in on a secret?” she asked, leaning closer to the window. “I know Hemmingwear only makes underwear for men, but I got a pair at home that I wear on the weekends, you know, when I do my power-walking. They’re a helluva lot more comfy than what I usually have to wear.”
    “When I see my father next, I’ll be sure to mention your choice in unmentionables. Thank you for your help with my licence.”
    “Thanks for the flowers, and sorry about yesterday. I’d had a bad day, too.”

    My cellphone chirped as I waited for the elevator in the lobby of my building. The screen on my phone said “Private Caller.” I figured it might be Sarah.
    “Hello?”
    “Son, it’s your father. I’ve been trying to reach you for a few days now. Is everything okay?”
    Shit.
    “Hi, Dad. You caught me, um, in the middle of something here.”
    “Perhaps, but the point is, I caught you,” he replied. “Tiring of the copywriting game yet?”
    “Well, funny you should ask. I’m actually not at Macdonald-Clark any longer. I’m kind of in between gigs right now.”
    “So you’ve got nothing on your plate. Why, that’s excellent news, son. Exceptional timing, too. Your return to Chicago is long overdue. It’s where you belong,” he said. “It was my father’s calling. It was my calling. Now it’s your calling.”
    “Please don’t say