[stylist] Short Story, "I Know You Will Always Run Back to Me"
Vejas Vasiliauskas
alpineimagination at gmail.com
Fri Dec 8 15:22:00 UTC 2017
Hi,
I'm really glad you liked it.
No, it waq't my intention to write it like a play, although I
have been told in the past with some other writing that I could
make it into a play.
The fact that I surprised you was exactly my intention.
Vejas
----- Original Message -----
From: Linda Lambert via stylist <stylist at nfbnet.org
To: "'Writers' Division Mailing List'" <stylist at nfbnet.org
Date sent: Fri, 8 Dec 2017 07:11:22 -0500
Subject: Re: [stylist] Short Story, "I Know You Will Always Run
Back to Me"
You caught me by surprise, at the end!
I never suspected the ending - well done!
>From the beginning of the story, it felt like I was reading a
script for a
play. Your descriptions seemed like instructions for the stage
setting with
placement of characters on the stage, and a list of props.
Throughout the
piece, I was a voyeur sitting in the audience watching the
play. Is this
your intention?
Thanks for sharing with us! I enjoyed reading this today. Lynda
-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of
Vejas
Vasiliauskas via stylist
Sent: Friday, December 8, 2017 1:30 AM
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Cc: Vejas Vasiliauskas <alpineimagination at gmail.com
Subject: Re: [stylist] Short Story, "I Know You Will Always Run
Back to Me"
When sending this, I accidentally left out an important detail:
the woman
is in her twenties. It may seem minor but for this story it's
very
relevant.
Vejas
On Dec 7, 2017, at 14:26, Vejas Vasiliauskas
<alpineimagination at gmail.com
wrote:
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
<I Know You Will Always Run Back to Me.doc
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