Short Story for English
We never intended to fail. Then again, no one ever really does. Some may say that by being unprepared, you are setting yourself up to fail. I’d have to say I disagree. Failure is an unintended event. It may be inevitable. But it is never planned. Scott and I - we had our whole life planned out. Birthday by birthday, milestone by milestone, we knew where we were going. Like stitches in an oriental rug, our lives were a map of colors and patters weaving together to form something substantial and solid. But little things began to fray the edges, until they became frayed and undone. Until finally, a force beyond our control came along and tugged, unraveling all that we had worked so hard for.
~
Scott and I first met in high school. Seeing as we were never married, you couldn’t peg us as high school sweethearts. In fact, at the time we were the farthest thing from sweethearts you could ever encounter.
“Why would you want to go with me?” he laughed, until he realized I was serious.
Fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers, who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters too
- John Mayer
We bought the apartment the year my sister got married. With the pressure greater on Scott and me to - as my sister put it so nicely- “join in an everlasting bond that will ensure love for eternity”, we settled on buying a small place in the city together. It was nice enough; a kitchen, staircase, bedroom and even the bonus of trees planted on the sidewalk. Scott - the musician - and I - the writer - found it to suite us both equally.
“You two will have the most darling children,” my mother commented while we were unpacking my china set one afternoon.
“Scott and I don’t plan on having ‘darling’ children Mom.” I stated briskly, swapping out the tea cup she was handing me before putting it away in the cabinet with the others.
“Why on earth not?” my mother seemed appalled by my inability to desire three year olds running around the apartment gluing crayons in my hair.
“We just never really warmed up to the idea that’s all.” I shrugged indifferently, returning to the cabinet to deposit another tea cup. We had talked it over once, but Scott and I wanted to get our lives started, before we tried starting someone else’s.
“Well,” my mother sniffed, peering in to the teapot before handing it to me, “I really hope you two reconsider. You know you’re father will think this is his fault.”
“Dad,” I laughed, “will not think this is his fault. And besides, he’ll want Scott and me to get married first.”
My mother gave me that you-know-he’s-right-you-two-should-get-married look. I rolled my eyes, dropping the whole subject. t was something I would never understand. Why couldn’t parents settle for their own kids? They had to have “darling” grandkids too.
~
The day our rug started to fray was the same day the newspaper called.
“Scott! Scott!” I ran through the house, finally locating him in the living room passed out in a chair. Grabbing it by the shoulders, I shook him awake. Why was he sleeping anyway? It was noon for God’s sake.
“Wh-what? God Jess, give me a heart attack why don’t you?” he mumbled, blinking the sleep from his eyes.
“Guess what?!” I was shaking him by the shoulders again. He took my hands in his own, finally awake from his catnap by my shouting.
“What?” he asked earnestly.
“Hold on,” I paused, noticing how pale he looked, “are you feeling all right?” I put my palm to his forehead, checking for a fever. He seemed to have one. But Scott grabbed my hand and put it back in his before I could play Nurse Jess any further.
“Come on, you woke me up with news now tell me!” he insisted. My face brightened again.
“The newspaper called! They read what I wrote for the column and really liked it!”
And I was on my feet again. I was Superwoman. Bouncing around the tiny living room, I threatened to take off at any minute. But Scott wrapped me in a hug, bringing me back down to Earth before I had the chance to burst out of my bones.
“I’m really proud of you Jess.”
I twisted around to bury my face in his shirt. He smelled like soap and new beginnings.
“Really?” my question surprised myself, the word blurting out before I could stop it. Scott pulled away ever so slightly to look at my face.
“Of course,” he beamed; it didn’t reach his eyes, “why wouldn’t I be?”
“I studied his face for a moment, before dismissing the paranoid something in my brain. He was happy for me. It was silly to doubt Scott.
Once I put my coat on
I’m coming out of this all wrong
She’s standing outside holding me
Saying ‘oh please I’m in love. I’m in love’
- Rob Pattinson
Fray, fray, fray, fray…tug. My eyes flickered open. The neon numbers glowing from the clock next to my bed told me that it was three o’clock. I had to be at work in four and a half hours. Two weeks at the newspaper sand I still wasn’t used to it. I concentrated on my breathing in an effort to back asleep. My heartbeat became so steady that it practically shook me with every pulse. Breathe in, breathe out. The heartbeat lullaby was lulling me back under it’s waves of sleep, until I noticed Scott was gone.
It had been a glance at first. But he truly wasn’t here. The reading glasses he wore on the bedside table had disappeared along with his jacket, that had been thrown over the chair just the night before. The sound of a door shutting downstairs startled me and I jolted upright.
“Scott?” I called out to the empty house, “Scott!”
I jumped out of bed and tore from the bedroom, dashing down the stairs. His things were missing. Already I could already tell that Scott belonging’s weren’t here. I reached the bottom of the stairs, tumbling into the desk in my haste. A picture frame, depicting Scott and I at the beach together, wobbled and fell off the desk as I sprinted down the hall, the noise as it crashed to the floor echoing into my ears.
Shatter shatter.
Shatter glass.
Shattered heart.
~
Scott and I first met in high school. Seeing as we were never married, you couldn’t peg us as high school sweethearts. In fact, at the time we were the farthest thing from sweethearts you could ever encounter.
“Why would you want to go with me?” he laughed, until he realized I was serious.
Fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers, who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters too
- John Mayer
We bought the apartment the year my sister got married. With the pressure greater on Scott and me to - as my sister put it so nicely- “join in an everlasting bond that will ensure love for eternity”, we settled on buying a small place in the city together. It was nice enough; a kitchen, staircase, bedroom and even the bonus of trees planted on the sidewalk. Scott - the musician - and I - the writer - found it to suite us both equally.
“You two will have the most darling children,” my mother commented while we were unpacking my china set one afternoon.
“Scott and I don’t plan on having ‘darling’ children Mom.” I stated briskly, swapping out the tea cup she was handing me before putting it away in the cabinet with the others.
“Why on earth not?” my mother seemed appalled by my inability to desire three year olds running around the apartment gluing crayons in my hair.
“We just never really warmed up to the idea that’s all.” I shrugged indifferently, returning to the cabinet to deposit another tea cup. We had talked it over once, but Scott and I wanted to get our lives started, before we tried starting someone else’s.
“Well,” my mother sniffed, peering in to the teapot before handing it to me, “I really hope you two reconsider. You know you’re father will think this is his fault.”
“Dad,” I laughed, “will not think this is his fault. And besides, he’ll want Scott and me to get married first.”
My mother gave me that you-know-he’s-right-you-two-should-get-married look. I rolled my eyes, dropping the whole subject. t was something I would never understand. Why couldn’t parents settle for their own kids? They had to have “darling” grandkids too.
~
The day our rug started to fray was the same day the newspaper called.
“Scott! Scott!” I ran through the house, finally locating him in the living room passed out in a chair. Grabbing it by the shoulders, I shook him awake. Why was he sleeping anyway? It was noon for God’s sake.
“Wh-what? God Jess, give me a heart attack why don’t you?” he mumbled, blinking the sleep from his eyes.
“Guess what?!” I was shaking him by the shoulders again. He took my hands in his own, finally awake from his catnap by my shouting.
“What?” he asked earnestly.
“Hold on,” I paused, noticing how pale he looked, “are you feeling all right?” I put my palm to his forehead, checking for a fever. He seemed to have one. But Scott grabbed my hand and put it back in his before I could play Nurse Jess any further.
“Come on, you woke me up with news now tell me!” he insisted. My face brightened again.
“The newspaper called! They read what I wrote for the column and really liked it!”
And I was on my feet again. I was Superwoman. Bouncing around the tiny living room, I threatened to take off at any minute. But Scott wrapped me in a hug, bringing me back down to Earth before I had the chance to burst out of my bones.
“I’m really proud of you Jess.”
I twisted around to bury my face in his shirt. He smelled like soap and new beginnings.
“Really?” my question surprised myself, the word blurting out before I could stop it. Scott pulled away ever so slightly to look at my face.
“Of course,” he beamed; it didn’t reach his eyes, “why wouldn’t I be?”
“I studied his face for a moment, before dismissing the paranoid something in my brain. He was happy for me. It was silly to doubt Scott.
Once I put my coat on
I’m coming out of this all wrong
She’s standing outside holding me
Saying ‘oh please I’m in love. I’m in love’
- Rob Pattinson
Fray, fray, fray, fray…tug. My eyes flickered open. The neon numbers glowing from the clock next to my bed told me that it was three o’clock. I had to be at work in four and a half hours. Two weeks at the newspaper sand I still wasn’t used to it. I concentrated on my breathing in an effort to back asleep. My heartbeat became so steady that it practically shook me with every pulse. Breathe in, breathe out. The heartbeat lullaby was lulling me back under it’s waves of sleep, until I noticed Scott was gone.
It had been a glance at first. But he truly wasn’t here. The reading glasses he wore on the bedside table had disappeared along with his jacket, that had been thrown over the chair just the night before. The sound of a door shutting downstairs startled me and I jolted upright.
“Scott?” I called out to the empty house, “Scott!”
I jumped out of bed and tore from the bedroom, dashing down the stairs. His things were missing. Already I could already tell that Scott belonging’s weren’t here. I reached the bottom of the stairs, tumbling into the desk in my haste. A picture frame, depicting Scott and I at the beach together, wobbled and fell off the desk as I sprinted down the hall, the noise as it crashed to the floor echoing into my ears.
Shatter shatter.
Shatter glass.
Shattered heart.