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Click hereI went back up to my apartment. I was struck by the urgency to go now. But I knew it was better to wait. To let her cool off. I'd go over tomorrow. Besides, I had a stop to make at my mother's first.
My mother gave me what I asked for without the slightest hesitation, she just squeezed me very tight. Stan shook my hand and wished me luck.
Not a bad guy Stan, he made my mother happy at least.
I drove over to the beach house the next day. I'd called her mom to confirm she was in fact staying there. She was. I knew she would be. It was her home.
I knocked on the door, but there was no answer, so I walked around back and saw her sitting out near the water. I'd some how managed to time things so that the sun was setting as I arrived. Perfect.
I walked up to her slowly. My heart was beating so loud I could feel it pulsing in my neck and wrists.
"Abby?" I said as I got about ten feet away.
She turned around.
Her face had such hurt on it, that my whole practiced speech just sort of fell apart like so much crumbling ash slipping through my fingers.
Instead I went with the first thing I could grasp onto.
"Two roads diverged in yellow wood," I said.
She followed me with a wary - yet hopeful - eye. I had a chance.
I knelt down next to her.
"I owe you - so much. Not the least of which is the mother of all apologies. For the way I left things when you went to New York. For what you saw yesterday, for what it meant," I said. This wasnot a conversation to fuck up.
She still hadn't said anything.
"But I'm not going to apologize for those things. They would just be words," I said. I still had nothing of the speech I'd practiced. I was totally winging it. I thought I might pass out.
"You were right. You're always right Abbs. There's nothing to figure out. I love you. You love me. Everything else is just sand on the wind," I said, I reached into my pocket.
"Jack," she started to say, her tone sounded like she was about to turn this around, to tell me there was no coming back from what had happened. I'd been terrified that's what she'd say.
I held up my mother's wedding ring.
Her voice caught dead in her throat.
Speechless was good, it gave me a little more time to talk.
"I love you Abby," luckily I was already kneeling, "Will you marry me?"
She stared at the ring, and then at me. Her eyes filled with tears. I couldn't tell if they were good tears or bad tears.
I started to panic. She was being awfully quiet.
Then. She gave a little shriek and leapt up and tackled me.
I was poorly balanced, I went back in the sand tangled up in her. She kissed my lips, my cheeks, my eyes, anything she could.
Then she sobbed and sat up on my chest and pounded her fists down on my chest a few times.
"Fucking took you long enough, Don Juan," she blurted out. I sat up with a grin and grabbed her wrists, pulling them away from her body and kissed her, very softly on the lips. She melted into me.
The universal tapestries and all that.
"It was always you, Abigayle, it was always you," I said.
She grinned, "Liar," but her voice was soft and affectionate. A just for me voice.
"Is that a yes?" I smirked.
She broke into tearful laughter, "Of course yes!"
Then we went back to the beach house and had crazy I missed you sex.
#
We're taught through movies and books, all stories really - even Shakespeare was guilty, and before him, the Greeks he'd ripped off. That stories end with a wedding. That they end with graduation, commencement, or the end of a journey. The guy and girl get each other, they get the good jobs, and life ends right?
Sure the credits roll, and you sometimes get the impression that things are going to beHappily Ever After for the couple. We get up and walk out of the theater, or put the book down, and that's the end of the story. Its why we fear commitment. Movies and stories have taught us that once the credits roll on the rice tossing, your life is over; the credits are rolling, you're frozen in time during the last frame.
But it's hardly ever the end of the story. Life moves on, dragging you behind it like Achilles dragging Hector behind his chariot. The sun sets on a proposal, rises again on the morning after, sets again on six months of wedding planning, and rises again on a late summer wedding. Sometimes it's all just context for the rest your life.
Context is everything friends.
In stories.
In relationships.
In life.
Context is everything.
There's a little more left to this story, if you haven't forgotten by now.
- COMMENTS
Finisabout 9 years agoAuthorI wrote the first draft in a week. I spent many many more hours in revisions and edits. While I've missed a few line edits here and there, the content of the story is as polished as I want it.
In the original draft Anna is much less sympathetic, and their break up is much less Jack's fault. In the original draft, Beth is drunk (after a huge fight with Jack) and ends up in an accident, and Jack walks off with Liz from the wreck. I changed these things because it made Jack flawless, and put all the blame for bad things in his life on other people.
Jack is not perfect, I never wanted him to be perfect. He is a flawed human being who makes (several) poor choices in his life.
That's kind of the whole point.
I think it's easy to confuse this story with fantasy fufillment. What guy wouldn't want four hot female friends who all eventually end up in his bed. While that's nice, it's not what this is about.
At any rate, I'm sorry you disliked the ending, but happy you liked the beginning. I think there is no way you can end a story like this that everyone finds satisfactory.
Anonymousabout 9 years ago"Abby would come and go as she pleased, and was coming more than she was going, and was often pleased; if you get my drift."
This sentence should have read: "Abby would come and go as she pleased, and was coming more than she was going." Beautiful, subtle, short, but packed with unspoken romance, and sex.
Your adding the extra words is as good example as any that you overstate the obvious. Which means you think that, either your readers are kind of dumb, or your writing is too vague and obscure for people to get your meaning. So you say the same things over and over, and restate it in different ways. And you often state the obvious. Or you go out of your way to describe some detail that turns out to have no real significance to the story. And it gets tedious, and boring, and on a more subconscious level, insulting. The reader knows when they are being spoon fed. And it is independent of the subject or the age of the reader. Read Dr. Zeus, or Isaac Asimov; no spoon feeding.
You really assassinated your Beth character in this story. She started out intelligent, full of self-awareness and self-respect, who knows she's beautiful and has more options among good men than Miss America. Then you slowly erode all that character, intelligence, strength, until she is reduced to a trailer trash beaten-up fuck toy. Right. Been getting beaten up for two months or more, but none of her best friends know. Been in an abusive relationship for, what, years? They are all so close; no one knows. Right, just keep skimming. So then she gets knocked up, right. Been fucking Godzilla and who knows what other jocks, and she is not on birth control. Right. Smart girl.
Then the asshole Jack throws her out. Cause he couldn't control himself. Cause he has the behavior and maturity of a 14 year old. He's still the awkward clumsy clueless nerd from the beginning of your story, and all the girls would be better off if they had kept him in that nerd zone. He's worthless. Worse, he's annoying. Even his mother doesn't want him around. He's not good enough for any of these women you created. But, hey, you dumbed all your other characters down as the story progressed, so why not have everyone be stupid by the ending. Even Abby. Sad.
Your story is a real pisser. I was hoping to rate it like most of your other readers. Can't do it. Needs LOTS of work. But only in the details (OK, that is a lot of work). What I mean is that its got great bones: plot, characters, setting, theme. Its like a really well constructed house, with a solid frame, wiring, plumbing, site, view, but then someone came along and screwed up the floor plan and decorating. The colors either too garish or too muted, or there is none. The arrangement of the rooms doesn't make sense, and the flow through the house is awkward and inappropriate. The decorating and finish is uncoordinated and sloppily displayed. Its fixable, but it needs fixing. Hope you get some help. Really, keep writing. If you keep at it you will be decent. Great? According to most of the ratings you are already great. What do you think?
