Write Club's Journal (original) (raw)

a short story with a valentine's theme.

He jangled the change in his pocket with one hand while fingering the cellophane of the twin saltine package with two fingers of the other. Free crackers with soup was some kind of unwritten culinary law, and he wondered how many people actually ever ate them. They tasted like sawdust to him. But then, so did most things lately.

She was twisting a curl as she eyed his belt, brown and dearly worn. He was a small man and quiet, dark lock of hair falling over the one eye almost as if on purpose. Soft features, pale, a kewpie in an olive jacket.

It was not until he heard her repeating Could you pass the salt? that he noticed her. He turned his head and his large eyes took in her mass of red hair, the paisley scarf that half restrained it, a nose both pert and freckled, the little lines at the corner of her pink questioning smile. He passed the salt with a nod and half smile. I do like salt, she said, on 'most anything. Pepper too. And salsa? You get me near a bowl, its half gone before the chips are scarcely touched. Yeah, I’m a girl who loves her condiments. He sensed her pratter was from nervousness and a desire to somehow breach the silence between, however awkward the attempt. So where are you from? she finally found the point she had been circling.

Not here, he replied. Back east aways. I’m just passing through. End it there, he thought, but surged instead forward- You?

Oh I’m a local. I just like to haunt this particular joint. Food is good and sometimes you meet an interesting traveler or two.

He wondered if she was a prostitute. She didn’t look it but you never knew. Born and raised here? he asked.

Yeah, she laughed a little, (embarrassed?) well I always meant to get out of here, college and all, you know, but life as a way of making those decisions for you (yes, definitely embarrassed. She feels smalltown and plain and desires to come across as otherwise).

He agreed that it did.

She cleared her throat and commented, you’ve barely touched your soup.

He set the spoon back down, just now aware he had been absently toying with it. Oh, its fine, I just haven’t much of an appetite.

If you’d like some fries, help yourself she gestured to her plate.

Offering food from her plate. God she was precious. So how old are you… hey, come to think of it, I don’t believe I caught your name

Oh, I’m sorry! So sorry, I’m Shelley, and I’m 22 well, you know.

Married?

Was. Not no more. I don’t stand for a man whos' get rowdy and don’t respect his woman. And I don’t stand for a man who loves his drink so.

That’s good. You shouldn’t. No woman should.

They were quiet.

Any children?

Two beautiful boys, one five and the other’n just barely one, they’re my pride and joy. Niece is watching them for the night, thought I would take an evening to just come and get some coffee and relax myself, I spent all day painting the outside of the house touching up the trim and whatnot and I’m darn near tuckered out, it was fiercesome hot out today.

Yes, still is, he said, noticing the bit of sweat collecting at his own brow.

More silence passed between them. The woman, a girl yet, really, was examining her fingernails with a sharp intensity.

Fancy a walk? She ventured. I imagine you haven’t seen much yet of the town. Not that there’s much to see, heh.

He thought for a moment, his throat growing tight. That I would, he said, and took her arm Like a real gentleman she thought.

She took him around the few main streets and indicated the places to eat and not to eat, which shops had the best wares and which were tawdry trinkets with inflated prices meant for tourists. She filled his ears with simple tales of country happenings and made his grave countenance twist into a smile more than once.

The sun was setting as they meandered along a trail through a field of wild grass and queen anne’s lace. …and back here's about where I live. Silence. I suppose I should be getting home, now, its getting late and...her head was turned away but as she trailed off she turned it back, looked up at him with clear blue eyes and reached upwards with her slender neck to place her lips to his.

The soup spoon pierced her temple just where he intended. He gave it a good twist before he let her fall.

He walked away calmly, jangling the change in his pocket with one hand. Tossed, carelessly, the packet of saltines into the weeds.