A Story in Which Nothing Happens - Indie Ink Challenge

I finally took the leap and signed up for the weekly challenge at Indie Ink. I was nervous to do so because let me tell you kids, the writers at Indie Ink don't mess around. There is some serious hardcore talent running things over there. But they were nice enough to feature my piece "Concrete" there last week so I do have some mad love for them right about now.

I received my challenge from Cope at Voluntary Tourettes's and the challenge posed to me? Write a story in which nothing happens. Sounds easy enough but I really struggled with this one. Regardless, it was nice to be challenged by such a worthy blogger in such a great format.  Here is my take on it. I should probably mention this is a fiction piece so no sympathy needed..... Enjoy!

Indie Ink Challenge from Cope @ http://voluntarytourettes.wordpress.com/

A Story in Which Nothing Happens

Ring. Ring. Ring.

I will not answer that call. I refuse to play in this game. I will not entertain yet another excuse, a pleading apology, or an angry invalid accusation that it was my fault that it happened. I don’t want to hear it. It doesn’t even really matter at this point. Nothing he could say to me would change what he did.

There used to be a time when I wouldn’t dream of not taking his call.  I lived to hear his voice and the words he filled me with.  He was my everything and I was always there waiting for him to need me, to validated me again for just another moment. Without him, I was nothing. With him, I felt I could do anything, my life was complete.  We were in love and we were getting married.

Our wedding was planned for exactly one month from today. It was to be a grand affair with all of our friends and family there to witness our proclamation of our ever-enduring love.  It would be a picture perfect day, I had already lived it a hundred times in my mind.

Every time I looked at my dress hanging on the back of the door, I was instantly transported to the end of the ivory clad aisle as the heavy double doors slowly opened, a bouquet of lilies in my hand, their fragrance strong and sweet. I could feel my dad’s arm linked through mine, see him smiling down at me, hear him whisper “you will always be my little girl” as he leans down to kiss my cheek before we begin our walk towards my love, my future.

I see him standing there, waiting for me. God, he is so handsome! Smiling at me and shifting his weight nervously, he never looks at anything but me as I make my way towards him.  I know that look, it is the look that I have grown to know so well, the look that made me feel like a real, whole, loved person.  He takes my hand as I approach and tells me how beautiful I am. And so begins the rest of our lives together, at least that’s how it goes in my head.

In reality, that day is not coming. Not now. Not with him. Not ever.  

The reality is that he decided he needed to fuck someone else. Not just anyone else of course. Anonymous would have been far too easy. No, he decided he needed to have sex with his ex-girlfriend, you know, for old time’s sake.  He said it was just one last time before he committed the rest of his life to me. It really didn’t mean anything, he’s told me so a thousand times.  And had I not had the audacity to walk in to our apartment at just the perfectly wrong time, I would have never known and we could have just gone about our perfect little lives just like we planned. It would have been my fairy tale.

This should have been a story about my happily ever after. But it’s not that story.  This is a story where nothing happens, nothing at all. Just like the phone that keeps ringing but will never be answered.