The message on her answering machine had been short, four condemning words that no one ever wants to hear: "We need to talk." It had been left at 2:51 p.m.; she would have still been in school. He didn't want to talk to her. He later sent her a message on her phone with simply a place and a time. Without question, she had immediately set off for the destination, disregarding the fact that she was about to be dumped. 1
She was now perched on the edge of the bench where he requested they meet, continuously turning her head left and right looking for any sign of him. People bustled past her, hurrying through the park like it was a mandatory chore. For fifteen minutes (well, fourteen and a third), she waited for him, straining her eyes to focus on the most distant stranger; maybe it was him. Finally, straight across the wide stretch of grass, she picked out his frame from the throng of people. His walk would be distinguishable even from halfway across the world. Her heart leaped and a smile spread across her face. He noticed her, too. He kept his head down, forcing himself to look at the ground. Her smile wavered and her brow furrowed slightly for only a moment. Then she remembered. The message. That damned message.
As he pushed his way through the crowds of pedestrians she stood up to greet him. When they met, she smiled. He did not. Instead, he looked rather forlorn. "Ainslie," was all he said.
“Jack."
Silently, he grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the populace and over to a withered gazebo where only a small group of teenagers sat smoking. He seated her on one of the picnic tables. He sat beside her, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him.
Minutes passed by quietly. Ainslie gazed upon him, unable to take her eyes off of him. Jack stared at anything that wasn't her, awkwardly looking for the next thing to study. He sighed and clapped his knees. "Ainslie, look," he shifted to face her. Her unexpected smile was beaming at him, and he helplessly turned away. "Look, we can't do this. I... it's just not working for me. I think we need to end it. Okay?" He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
Ainslie's eyes glazed over and her stare fell to the cement floor. The faded smile was haunting her lips as it truly hit home. No more pretending; it wasn't just going to go away. The message was real, and so was this. Right here, right now, this was real. It was happening.
Her throat tightened as that familiar knot formed and swelled.
Jack spoke to her, "Ainslie?" She couldn't reply. The knot was too big. Her surroundings slipped away, faded to her subconscious. As she inadvertently tuned the world out, Ainslie frantically searched all the corners of her brain for a reason why he would be doing this.
What had gone wrong? Everything seemed to have been going so perfectly. Even when he had forced her to meet his friends, something she had really not wanted to do, she could only smile and be on her best behaviour. She was not a naturally social person, but she still pulled though. She thought it had gone so well. That couldn't be the reason. Perhaps she was too ugly? All those hours spent trying her hardest to look spectacular for this beautiful man... She thought she had looked adorable, always getting compliments from him, his friends, even strangers on the street. Tears pushed themselves up past her eyes as she pictured herself sitting here, quaint and pretty and innocent, being demoted from his life. She had even tried to look nice for him on the day they were breaking up. What on earth could she have done?
His warm hand on her knee brought the world spinning back to her. With a sharp gasp, she jumped, snapping her head up to look at him. Jack was looking at her with concern, a gentle frown creasing his forehead. Ainslie realized the tears were pouring down her face. She couldn't feel them. The hand on her knee moved up to her arm, where it slowly started to rub as if comforting her. Mouth parted, she stared at him, this time incredulously.
For some reason, his face did not seem as warm and welcoming as she had always thought. All its flaws seemed to hurl themselves at her: his large lips looked like overinflated tires; a row of pimples traced his jaw-line like a picture frame; small, awry hairs sprouted from in between his two eyebrows, close to joining them together. She grimaced. She had been trying to look gorgeous for this? As if! He didn't deserve her at all. Not only was he downright unattractive, but he didn't even treat her the way she should be treated. He would avoid her constantly: he had work to do, he had friends to see, he had this to do, that to return, there to be. Always away from her. When they were together he would talk down to her like she was beneath him. He would never get her coat or hold the door open for her. Ainslie was always left behind. And now, here he was, sitting in his false glory, thinking that he had the right to break up with her.
Well, I've got four words for you.
Jack’s voice was muffled by the subconscious veil across Ainslie’s mind. Her vision, blurry and unfocussed, was reluctant to switch back to reality. She watched his face, and the pitiful way he tried to make excuses for himself. She refused to be a part. A grin slowly grew from the center of her mouth, corners extending up and into her cheeks. Jack stopped speaking and watched her carefully.
“Ainslie? Are you alright?”
Her grin was malicious, almost scary. A soft laugh rumbled through her chest, growing louder until it made the smoking teenagers turn and stare. Jack leaned away from her. “What’s going on?” he said.
Ainslie’s body was vibrating throughout with laughter. Tears pinched out of her eyes, but this time from joy, whatever kind of joy it was. She laughed at the absolute idiocy of the situation, and at Jack’s pathetic scrambling for reasoning as if she cared. Her laughter calmed to a light chuckle. She narrowed her eyes, still smiling. Jack put his hand out to her, but she hit it away. “Up yours, you f--ker,” she said, which sent her into bouts of more laughter. Struggling to stand, she fell into Jack’s lap. For the last time, she felt his embrace. Ainslie straightened up and brushed her coat. “Good bye, Jack. I guess you’re right,” she whispered. She turned and walked away, swinging her arms, leaving Jack to stare dumbfounded after her.2
Author notes
This was an assignment from my Grade Twelve Writer's Craft class. We had to write a short narrative, including interior dialogue, about a character who is in a situation warranting self-pity, but they must get over it. The mark I got was 32/32.
Oh yeah, I dashed out the bad word in case anyone is offended by it. Hehe.
Comments
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It does fit all of the criteria for the assignment. And it seems to be very well written. I actually read the entire thing even though it's not a subject that interests me, so I think that means you write well.
Sorry if I'm not any help
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Thanks very much! I'm glad you liked it even if it wasn't your thing
I wrote it mainly out of personal experience, so it's not my favourite topic either. But it worked, hehe.
Of course you're helpful
Any feedback at all is great to have!
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