A Walk Changed Everything V2

Stop right here for a second. If you're reading this because you found a "new" story, please be aware that this is a different version of the 8/4/2021 revision of a story already published by us, just heavily restructured as an experiment. Please read the original version of A Walk Changed Everything before you read this.

The difference between this version and the original is that this has been restructured into linear time. Only read this version if you find the chronology of the original too confusing, too exhausting, or if you simply want to compare the two.

Something interesting happened when we reworked this. Though we still believe the original to be superior, and even though this version is identical in every respect, even containing the same errors that are in that revision, the story playing out in a different order "spoils" some surprises, but different tensions seem to develop as a result of the re-order. This version does, in fact, seem to take on an entirely different flavor.

All characters engaged in adult activities are over the age of eighteen, and yeah, I guess this needs to be said: This is entirely a work of absolute fiction. Places and parties described are incidental and used only to add realism.

There's plenty of eroticism in most of our other tales, but there's not so much in this one. If you are expecting this story to be similar to our others, you might prefer to simply skip this one.

Though both versions of this story completely stand on their own, they're related to The Flight Before Christmas, so you might want to read that first, as there are some "spoilers" to that story contained within this one. We Did a Good Thing should be read after that and this.

Let us know your thoughts in the comments!

We hope you enjoy: A Walk Changed Everything (Version 2)

"Corrie 2/10/97" was written on the yellowing paper which her mother had sealed in a page of the scrapbook she'd made. I knew the year, but couldn't remember the precise day. I was lucky to have it in my possession.

"Can I use your glue stick?"

Though I'm sure they weren't, those were the first words I remember Corrie saying to me. It was during fourth grade art class at S. W. Majors Elementary in Shawnee, Kansas.

"Sure," I answered, handing her a rather stubby tube of Elmer's.

I remember being awed, as well as somewhat shamed, by what she did with it. I watched as she used a popsicle stick to scoop a bit of the glue. She traced the paste on the few remaining penciled lines and sprinkled colored sand on them.

At the time, I didn't know such a thing was called a mandala, but I knew what she was creating was better than the construction paper abomination I'd "crafted."

"Thanks," she said, then took her creation and hung it from two clothespins to dry.

"What are you making?" she asked.

"Mars," I answered.

"Oh. Cool," she said.

It was the day before "Open House."

Her project was featured on an easel. Mine still hung where I'd clipped it. Parents slowly milled by the displays, feigning appreciation and pride in their kids' immature art.

"Mars, huh?" she asked when we encountered each other during the event.

"Yeah."

"Why is that part green?" she asked.

"Because I ran out of orange and red," I answered.

"You could have used mine."

"What's yours called?" I asked.

"I don't know. What would you call it?"

"The winner."

She smiled. "See you tomorrow," she said and waved lightly as she departed with her parents.

"See ya, Corrie."

August 18, 2005

"Stop!" she shouted. "You missed the turn!" she laughed. "Turn right at the next light," she suggested.

"Sorry, but your singing distracted me from navigating."

"I love a cappella stuff," she sighed and stopped the CD she'd been singing along with.

"You have a talent for it," I smiled. "I love listening to you sing. Your voice is . . . angelic."

I rounded the corner, entered the shopping center from the back, then pulled into a parking spot at the cineplex.

"What do you want to see?" I asked as we walked past all the back-lit movie posters.

"You're going to think I'm weird," she answered.

"I already do," I grinned. "Whatever you choose is okay with me."

She laughed her sweet laugh. "How about Wedding Crashers?"

"Oh, yeah!" I yelped in absolute delight.

I bought us two tickets.

"You seem kinda giddy," Corrie observed after we'd stepped out of the queue.

"Well, yeah! I didn't think you'd be into that kind of movie."

"Rob, come here," she said, taking my hand and guiding me around the corner of the cinema's front exterior, away from the flow of people, instead of stepping through the doors.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing," she whispered.

She surprised me with an awesomely soft, tender kiss. It surprised me because she'd never been too keen on public displays of affection.

"I love you, Robin," she whispered.

"I love you, too, Corrie," I sighed, holding her small form to me.

She leaned back a little, smiled sweetly, and softly brushed the tip of her nose across mine. She took my hand again, and we walked into the theater.

As we both laughed at the idiocy of the movie, I enjoyed feeling her resting against my shoulder and the fingers of her left hand intertwined with mine.

As we walked back to my car later, I heard her sniffle and saw tears in her eyes.

"Corrie? You okay?" I asked.

"No, you dork," she sighed and stared at me.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm going to miss you so much."

She reached for me and pulled me into a tight embrace just before she began crying. I held her close to me, stroking her back and running my fingers through her soft auburn hair.

"I feel the same way," I confessed. "I just couldn't bring myself to say it because it hurts to even think it."

I tilted her head so I could look into her soulful brown eyes. I wanted her to see that I was fighting tears, too, before I kissed her.

"Give this a kiss, too, please?" I requested, offering her my hand.

She took my hand and placed her lips on the signet of my class ring.

I smiled. "Now I'll always have your kiss near me when I'm missing you. You'll have to do it again as soon as we're both back home in case it wears off."

She asked me to do the same for the charm attached to a bracelet on her left wrist which bore our initials. "CS+RG" was engraved in it. I'd given her the set as a gift for her eighteenth birthday seven months prior. Her perfume delicately laced her skin. I inhaled quietly. It was a scent I never wanted to forget.

"I can't believe the time's come already. I never expected I'd get a scholarship there."

Both of us applied to the same pair of schools, but, as luck sometimes means sacrifice, we earned full scholarships from the opposite ones.

"I'm proud of you. UCSD will be good to you," I whispered.

"UNC is one of the best communications schools in the country, too, and you're going to do so well. I just know it."

I felt a noose tightening around my neck as 1:00am approached. Corrie had promised her parents she'd be home by then in order to make sure she was able to catch her flight to San Diego the next morning.

I drove her back to her home. I asked her to sing for me again, but she couldn't, so the drive was almost wordless. I stopped at the end of her street so we could kiss one last time.

It became at least seven last times. My mind focused on the flavor of her kisses and the scent of her breath. I didn't want to forget either.

She exited the car. My tears came when I dropped my bravado after I saw her go inside her house.

My flight to North Carolina departed two days later. At that point, there were more than two thousand miles between me and the girl I loved with all my heart and soul.

December 24, 2009

"I love you, Robin," she whispered. "More now than ever."

"To the moon and back?" I asked after she kissed me warmly.

"Much, much further," she answered. "I'm so glad you're back home for good."

Corrie had graduated in May, but I stuck it out another semester because I wanted to earn two minors in journalism and criminology. I spent the fall semester cramming the additional courses in and graduated two weeks before that night.

Corrie scored her dream job as an associate producer working for one of the major TV network affiliates in Kansas City where she was employed as a media designer responsible for just about everything digital that appeared on-screen for the news broadcasts and station's commercials. All of the graphics and crawls used on-screen, the weather styling, studio set pieces, even the musical stings and themes were her responsibility working for the executive producer of the station.

I scored my dream job working for the Kansas City Star.

"Do you remember when I asked you to marry me?" I quizzed her when we sat on her sofa in her apartment to cuddle under a blanket.

"Yeah! I actually do!" she laughed. "I even remember what we had for lunch that day," she smiled warmly.

"Lunch? You remember that detail? What was it?" I laughed.

"That nasty under-cooked rectangular oily cheese pizza shingle thing, green peas, and chocolate pudding."

"That means it was on a Friday," I chuckled, recalling the cyclical nature of our elementary school's cafeteria menu.

She smiled wistfully. "Looking back on that part of our lives, you were such a sweet boy."

"Was?" I challenged.

"You've always been sweet to me, but now you're an even more incredibly sweet, handsome man," she said, kissing me softly, nibbling my lip a little.

"It's hard to believe we've known each other for as long as we have. A lot of thick and thin that whole time," I said.

"But . . . the last four years? I don't think I could have gotten through them without you being there for me every step of the way."

"Same for me. I swear, if we had to pay for our cell minutes the way my parents whined they had to when cellphones first came out, it probably would have bankrupted the both of us," I said.

"I think our calls and Skypes were the only way the whole long distance relationship thing worked for us."

"I choose not to think that way. I prefer to think you and I could have made it through either way. Hell! We didn't even get to spend summers together."

"And now we're very much together," she sighed, giving me another tender smooch.

She'd worked the three prior summers as an intern at two other studios, building an outstanding CV. My internships were all over the country, which meant she and I had only been reunited for a total of maybe three or four highly-fragmented months during those four-plus years.

"Do you remember when you first realized you were more than my bestest friend?" she asked me.

"I absolutely do. It was our junior year in high school when I broke my leg in the soccer game. You visited me in the hospital. Seriously, Corrie, I can't tell you how much that meant to me," I said, thinking back. "How 'bout you?" I asked.

She laughed gently. "It was when I saw how you began looking at me differently after you came back to school a week later."

"What?"

"Yeah. I noticed you looking at me with . . . very keen interest in your eyes."

I considered what she'd said. She was absolutely right.

"Oh," I said, sheepishly. "I didn't realize I was behaving that way, but I couldn't figure out how to tell you that I was attracted to you.

"I mean, I was attracted to you before then, even, because . . . well, you know . . . hormones and all.

"But we'd been more like schoolyard pals for . . . what, five or six years? It just seemed so . . . wrong for some reason."

"It wasn't wrong. I felt the same way about you. I loved you before I even knew what the word truly meant. When I saw you in the hospital, I really, really wanted to see if a kiss could maybe make you feel better, but I talked myself out of it because your dad was in the room, and I was also scared of what you might think," she said, stroking my chin with the back of her forefinger, drawing down my lower lip which she suckled between hers.

"You said 'no' to me over the pizza and peas in the sixth grade. What would you say now?"

She smiled sweetly. "You're a wonderful, incredible romantic, Rob. I absolutely adore that ab—"

She stopped speaking the instant her eyes saw the diamond ring I held in the opened palm of my hand.

"Robin?" she whispered, eyes wide.

"Corrie, I don't want to be apart from you ever, ever again. Please . . . please, will you marry me?"

She began weeping. She sobbed, wrapping both of her arms around my neck, embracing me, and kissing my face all over before placing a rich one on my lips.

"Yes, Baby. I absolutely will!" she whimpered. "What took you so long? I should have said yes years ago!"

"That would have been kinda weird!" I laughed through my own tears of joy.

I slipped the ring onto her finger, thanking my lucky stars that it fit perfectly.

"Oh, God, Robin! I love you so much! I can't wait to tell everyone! Best Christmas Eve ever!"

June 15, 2014

"I've got something to show you, I've got something to show you," Corrie sang to the tune of "nanny nanny boo boo."

I'd just come home from work. It'd been an incredibly fatiguing day. I figured she'd returned home maybe an hour before.

"Oh, crap," I groaned. "What'd I do?"

She was laughing, but that didn't settle my unease.

Had I forgotten an important chore? I'd remembered to fold and put away the last load of laundry, the lawn was looking awesome, I'd changed the oil in her car at the quick lube place, and I'd double-checked the list before I returned home with the groceries the day before.

"Corrie, please tell me what I did wrong!" I begged.

She slowly reached into a back pocket of her cut-off denim shorts. My eyes flew wide when I recognized the shape of the object she removed.

She grinned at me, clutching it in her fist.

"Corrie?" I whispered.

She handed me a pregnancy test. I rotated it between my fingers and saw the obvious indication of a positive.

"What'd you do wrong?" she whispered. "Nothing, my love," she finally answered with a ravishingly happy smile.

"Oh, Baby! Corrie! Baby! Are you sure?!"

"Yes, Robin! We're going to have a baby," she grinned cheekily.

"Oh, God! My LOVE!" I grasped at her, pulling her tightly to me.

"You're going to be a daddy," she purred in my ear, wrapping her arms under mine.

"I won't be half as good a father as you will be a mother," I sobbed. "We're going to have a baby?"

"We are! Are you happy?" she cried, her unchecked emotions gushing along with mine.

"More than I thought I could ever be! I love you so much!" I bawled in absolute joy.

My hectic day was completely forgotten as my beautiful wife drew me into our bed. We made slow, sensual, celebratory love. After dinner, we went at it again with shrieks of laughter and absolutely stunning joy in the knowledge our first child was growing inside her beautiful body.

March 3, 2015, 2:58am

"Rob," I heard with her jostles. "Wake up."

"What's wrong?" I groaned into my pillow when I checked the clock.

"We have to go," she answered and turned on the overhead lights. The glare made me squint my eyes.

"It's barely three o'clock. We're not even supposed to check in until 7:00."

"No, we need to go now. I'm in labor."

"You sure it's not Braxton Hicks again?" I asked, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"Braxton Hicks wouldn't cause my water to break," she said. "I think our baby is coming the usual way."

The urgency of the situation struck me quickly, and I clambered out of the bed. I trotted to the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker, then went back to the bedroom where I shed my sleepwear and threw on the clothes I'd placed in the "go stack" which had been assembled on top of the dresser. It'd been there for a month. It held a pair of jeans, a shirt, underwear and socks, even a separate pair of shoes and a coat so I wouldn't need to run around the house looking for my everyday ones.

Corrie had already dressed before she'd awakened me. She opened her own "go bag" to add her e-reader, phone, and a charger that fit both.

I expedited the rest of my morning needs and met her in the kitchen where she'd poured me a travel mug of hot brew. She'd abstained from coffee for eight months.

"We got everything?" she asked as we made our way to the garage.

"I think so," I said, excitedly.

I'd relentlessly teased Corrie's insistence of planning all the "dash details," but was honestly glad I'd acquiesced because my mind was reeling. I wasn't even sure I remembered the route to the hospital, even though we'd driven there only three days before only to be discharged due to false labor.

"This is really happening!" I grinned at my wife, rubbing my palms together to warm them as the garage door rose. It was cold. I saw there was about two inches of fresh powder on the driveway.

"That's not going to help," Corrie groaned, seeing the snow herself before she opened the passenger door and climbed inside.

"There won't be any traffic this early. It shouldn't take more than half an hour to get there," I said with cautious optimism. "Just . . . clench. Do Kegels. Just . . . keep the door closed."

She laughed. "Sweetie, it doesn't work quite like that!"

"How far apart?" I asked.

"Maybe ten minutes. I don't have any comparisons, but I think they're mild so far," she said, describing her contractions. "I felt the first twinge a few hours ago."

"Plenty of time. Pal-hen-tee of time."

The snow audibly popped and crunched under the tires as I backed out of the garage. It was the dry, fine variety that's impossible to form into snowballs. The upside to it was that the traction and stability control system in my four-wheel drive SUV had no problems gaining purchase.

I chose to drive the surface streets instead of taking the three-mile shortcut on the highway. The lack of traffic would favor us, and the flashing signals wouldn't consume more time than a stop sign would for one solitary car.

"Are you excited?" Corrie asked, reaching out and grasping my free hand.

"Like you read about," I answered with a broad smile.

"Me, too!" she said, then winced for several seconds. "Oh boy," she said, panting a few times.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. That one was a lot more than a twinge," she answered. "I hope I'm not too far along for an epidural."

"Even if you are, just remember. You'll forget the pain as soon as you hold our baby in your arms."

"Maybe. I'm just not sure I can endure a long ordeal."

"You can get through anything, Corrie. You're the toughest woman in the world. Unless I have to take a wee or something, I'll be by your side the entire time."

"Oh!" she grunted. "Never talk about peeing to a pregnant woman!" she laughed. She laughed hard. "Gahh! Darn it, Robin! That's why I've been resorting to wearing pee pads these last few months! Don't make me laugh!"

"I love you to the moon and back, Corrie," I whispered, shooting her a smile.

March 3, 2015, 3:17am

"Ooph," my wife groaned.

"You going to make it?" I asked.

"Yeah. I think."

"Just squeeze!" I offered.

"Shut up, Robin! Unless you're prepared to pass a ping-pong ball through your ding-dong, don't tell me to squeeze off a cantaloupe!"

"Fair enough. Just about ten minutes more until we're there."

"You know I love you, right?" my wife asked.

"I absolutely do," I answered.

"OoouchEEE!" she hissed as another contraction gripped her. Her hand grasping mine proved she understood I was only trying to distract her.

March 3, 2015, 6:16amr"