[stylist] Short Story, "I Know You Will Always Run Back to Me"

[Vejas Vasiliauskas]

 Hi Everyone,
As many of you know, I really enjoy writing short stories, and in 
my first English class this semester we read lots of them.  I am 
hoping, with this short story, that I have been able to apply 
what I have learned from this list and from my English class in 
how I write, so I would really appreciate any critique, whether 
positive or negative.
I am also writing about some of the characters long-term, and 
know much more about them than I am letting on (as seems to be 
the case in many of the short stories I have read).
To get a sense of how much time you might feel you need, the 
story is 2204 words.
Enjoy reading!
Vejas
I Know You Will Always Run Back to Me

by Vejas Vasiliauskas
The park is full of activity: it is a cold autumn afternoon that 
requires people to wear jackets, but it has not deterred parents 
and children from enjoying the playground or feeding the ducks.
Off to one side and slightly away from the noise, two people are 
seated at a picnic table with lunch and reading material.  There 
is a man in his fifties, who seems to think that this cold 
weather does not apply to him.  He is wearing shorts and a 
short-sleeved t-shirt.  He is rather tall, but also quite thin.  
The woman, by contrast, is shorter, and slightly overweight from 
lack of exercise.  She is much better dressed than her companion, 
with blue jeans, a sweatshirt and a jacket.  In front of the man 
is a copy of The Daily Mail and at her place there is a book, The 
Life of Jeremy Kyle So Far.  In the middle of the table is their 
food: egg salad sandwiches, chips, and coffee.
"Care for some coffee?" he asks her.  He has a British accent, 
London to be exact, though here it doesn't matter so much.  He no 
longer feels self-conscious about it, as he did when he came to 
the USA for college, or any need to show it off: it is just a 
part of him.
"Yes, please," she says.  "I thought I'd bring the sandwiches and 
save you a little trouble.  What did you bring The Daily Mail 
for?"
He pours her a cup and hands it to her.  "Just something for me 
to take a look at.  I knew we weren't hear just to read books.  
To be honest, the content of your book isn't that much more 
fulfilling, either."
She blushes a bright red.  Jeremy Kyle is the British Dr.  Phil.  
She watches it to learn more about peoples' messed-up lives; he 
doesn't, as he thinks his life-their life-is messed up enough, 
and teases her about it regularly.
As they begin to eat, the thought of why they are meeting here 
penetrates his mind.  Why did she ask to meet in such a quiet 
place? If she had wanted him to look at a piece she was 
writing-something which he had done often enough-they could have 
met at a coffee shop.  Or maybe the writing was about something 
too personal for others to know? And the last-minute nature of 
the meeting had been very interesting, too-normally if they were 
to spend time together, it would be planned at least a few days 
in advance.
Another thought pops into his head: it must be more problems.  It 
is always her that talks about her problems.  Because he is 
considerably older than she, he never talks about his, but he 
wishes he could, if only that he had someone for whom to confide 
in about how low he is feeling, what a mess his marriage is in, 
and his wife's possible cancer diagnosis.  But he has to force 
himself to keep his mouth shut.
"I need to talk," she says after a moment.  "You know I love 
spending time with you, but this isn't really what I wanted to do 
today."
I suspect not, he says in his head, but instead he responds with, 
"Is that so?"
"Well, basically, it's over."
"What's over?"
He knows what is coming, and is right.  "Me and Tom."
He tries to keep his sigh inaudible.  He has most definitely 
heard this before.  She had once thought she'd never find anyone 
of her age group to love her, until this man, Tom, from 
Australia, came into her life last year.  At first she seemed to 
love him quite a lot, and he was genuine and charming, but lately 
things haven't been going so great.  Despite their togetherness, 
they lived very separate lives, and still had in their own 
houses.  Every time things go wrong with Tom, and she feels like 
talking about it, he is the first to hear about it.  He suspects 
that there are more incidents that she won't speak about, but 
doesn't prod.  His increasing frustration, which he does 
everything in his power to hide, stems more from the fact that he 
feels she can do better than actual annoyance with her.
"We were supposed to go to the beach today," she says.  "He said 
we'd do it in the afternoon.  He told me yesterday that he was 
going to a party and he'd probably end up fu'' well, drunk 
(refraining from using the f word out of respect for his age), so 
he said it wouldn't be anything earlier than 1, and that I should 
take it easy on myself.  I slept in until eleven."
"And?"
"Nothing!" She becomes emotional as he says this.  "Absolutely 
nothing! I texted at 12, 1, 2, 2:01, 2:02..."
"Did he read any of them?"
"I don't know.  He's not like you.  He doesn't have read receipts 
on his IPhone."
It scares him just how much Tom has become a part of her life.  
While he would never admit this to her, he can tell immediately 
by the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice whether things 
are good between them, or whether they aren't.
"Maybe he forgot?" the man offers, while at the same time 
perfectly well knowing that he most likely would not have.
"It would be nice if that's all it was," she says, trying on a 
smile which they both know is fake.
After a brief pause, where it appears neither of them know what 
to say, he asks, "Has anything else happened between the two of 
you this week?"
"Yes, two other things! He told me on Monday I need to get a 
diet, and on Tuesday offered to get me ice cream.  Why would he 
do that?"
He lets the question sink in the air for a bit.  It would be 
rather tactless if he said "Because he's messing with your head." 
But saying "Maybe he forgot about telling you about the diet?" 
just to appease her would seem wrong too.
"Why do you think?" he finally asks.
"I don't know.  I'll have to think about it." She sighs.  The 
look that she is giving him shows that she might have an idea as 
to why.
"And that's not the worst incident," she continues.  "The worst 
was yesterday.  In the morning we had a petty argument but we 
seemed to have solved it.  It happened later."
She pauses for breath, then continues.
"I haven't told you this, and I guess I should now, but I've been 
feeling odd and went to get a pregnancy test at lunch."
"Are you pregnant?" he asks, and immediately mentally kicks 
himself for being so blunt when that is not the point of her 
story.  He is perfectly aware that it is not his place to judge 
whether or not she is pregnant or wants to be so, but he doesn't 
feel as if she's in the appropriate condition to be a mother.
"No, thank God!"
"So, continue..."
"So I walked because it was such a beautiful day.  Nothing like 
today...  oh, you're shivering.  Do you want my jacket?"
"No.  Go on."
"I was feeling really happy after finding out I wasn't pregnant, 
and was walking back.  So I was really happy when I ran into Tom 
and his friend Brad on this one busy street corner.  I said, 
"Hey, Tom, Brad! How are you guys?" Brad replied he was great, 
but Tom just wouldn't answer me.  I was so hoping we could make 
up after our argument.  I thought he was still mad! So I turned 
to him and asked, "What have you been doing today, Tom?" And he 
didn't reply! And Brad kind of tried to ease the situation, he 
said, "Tom wanted to go and get some flowers He got a beautiful 
bouquet of roses."
She pauses again and he allows her to continue.
"Then when it was time to cross, he just stomped off and left 
BOTH of us! And Brad didn't try to stop him or anything, we just 
looked at each other and crossed.  I called Tom later, and he was 
really nice to me.  But he denied seeing me!"
"Are you sure he wasn't, say, looking at his phone?"
"I'm sure of that! He looked so smug.  So I'm mad for two 
reasons, first, for the silent treatment, and then...  And she 
bursts into tears.  "Brad might have been in on this as well.  I 
don't think the flowers were for me."
He hands her a tissue and puts his arm around her.  "Why don't 
you think they were for you?"
"Because he never mentioned them." She wipes her eyes.  "I'm so 
sorry.  I know you didn't want to hear all of this!"
"I do," he replies.  "I don't think there is anything I can say 
other than I'm sorry.  Nobody should be treating you like that.  
Maybe we can go and get some ice cream...'" He mentally kicks 
himself again.  Ice cream was the very thing she and Tom had had 
the discussion about.  "Unless..."
"Yes, that would be great," she says, smiling at him, a real 
smile this time.
"Can I stay at yours tonight?" she asks him.  "I can't deal with 
my own thoughts at home."
"Yes, of course," he replies, beginning to gather their items and 
throwing out the trash.  "Not a problem at all."
Yet, as they are walking the short distance to the ice cream 
store, he sees her staring at her phone periodically.  He is very 
surprised to hear when it vibrates.
"Oh, I just need to check this!" she says, almost in a singsongy 
voice.  "Yes, it's from Tom! He says sorry! He says he'll cook me 
chicken and gravy! He says (and at this point she is grinning 
from ear to ear), "he says I can have the flowers!"
Her companion is not feeling as joyful as she is; in fact, he 
tries to hide his less-than-impressed expression.  In the back of 
his mind, he feels that the flowers really were intended for 
someone else.
"Could you drive me over to his house? Please?" she asks.
He hesitates.  It isn't the driving itself he minds.  It's the 
fact that she is so willing to get back into the terrible life 
she keeps telling him about.  There is also a small part of him 
that thinks, She only ever wants to spend time with me when that 
guy is unavailable.  And yet he also knows that she will do 
whatever she can to see him, and that if he refuses she will find 
some other means.
But he tries one more tactic.  "Do you REALLY want to go back to 
Tom's house?" he asks, stressing the word "really" a bit.
"Yes, please!"
"All right," he concedes.
In the car, he attempts to make casual conversation with her.  
This includes asking about the life of Jeremy Kyle (which he 
actually has no interest in), but because she is interested in it 
herself, they talk about it for awhile.  She asks him about what 
he has read in his newspaper, and he admits that he just used it 
as something to do while he waited for her to be ready to talk, 
so has not absorbed anything from it.
When they arrive at Tom's house ten minutes later, he expects her 
to leap out of the car and run for the door.  He expects-despite 
the hurt-that she won't even bother to say goodbye to him.  He 
expects, ultimately, that as soon as the next incident with Tom 
occurs, whatever it may be about, she will call him.
So he is genuinely very surprised when she stays planted where 
she is.
"We're at Tom's house," he tries.
"Yes, I know."
"Where you can eat really good chicken and gravy."
  Turning to him, she speaks with a fierceness that he has never 
seen her speak before.  "I'm done with it," she says.  "I was 
thinking about your question, if I really wanted to go back to 
his house.  And I do, but I don't.  I don't care about that 
chicken."
"Do you want to go home?"
"Yes!" she replies.  "Quickly now, so he doesn't see me!"
The man tries not to hide the relief in his face as he drives 
away from the house.  "So it's really over?"
"Yes, it's really over.  Or at least I want it to be.  I hope you 
can help me because I know I may not feel that way in an hour."
"Block and delete," he says.
"Yes, I'll do that right now!"
Once back at her house, he asks if she needs anything.
"I think I'd like you to hold onto my phone for a day," she says.  
"And give it back to me tomorrow.  I'm just all over the place 
now."
"I know the feeling," he says.  "Of course I'll do that."
As she gets out of the car-this time with a new sense of 
freedom-and turns to her companion, this man who should really be 
wearing a jacket.
"Thanks," she says.  "You're the best Dad in the world."
The End
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