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Open Closure
October 30, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Breakup, Closure, Drinking, Loss, Separation | by davidbdale | 6 comments
Already the breaking up has lasted longer than the love affair and provided her more pleasure. Another week of breaking up and this will be her most satisfying relationship yet. I’d rather drink and stay out with friends than be with you, he tells her; I never cared about you, and I don’t care about you now. I need some kind of closure, she says. I lied about the job interview, he tells her; I spent those five days sleeping with my ex. We haven’t tried everything yet, she says. I didn’t sleep with her to hurt you, he tells her; I don’t care enough to want to hurt you. I can’t believe you would lie to me when I love you, she says; if you take that job and leave me it will kill your mother; you love me but drinking confuses you. Go away now and leave me alone or do I have to hurt you, he tells her. This is what I don’t understand about men, she says, always pushing away what’s best for you. We were good together for a time, he tells her. Oh yes we were my love, she says. We were good together because you could take me or leave me, he tells her, and I could take you or leave you. I was more to you than that, she says. Don’t make me hurt you, he tells her. I’m coming up there right now, she says; we’ll talk this thing out; you owe me that much. Don’t come, he tells her; I’m drinking tonight and sleeping with my ex. The police are looking for your car, sweet baby, she says; I told them you left here driving drunk; I’ll be there in an hour. Good fuck linding me, he tells her.
Copyright ©1997
The Truth About Sex
October 16, 2006 in 299 Words, Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Literature, Poetry, Short stories, Stories, Very Short Novels, Writing | Tags: Cheat, Drinking, Flirt, Laugh, Marriage, Sex, Truth | by davidbdale | 4 comments
The honest man tells his wife the truth about sex. It’s a vertiginous moment. The truth about sex is that he always wants it and will forever continue to want it with whomever is nearest and most willing and most attractive, but that of those three indicators attractiveness, while important, is not essential and will, if mitigated for instance by distance or disinterest, yield to nearness and willingness every time, so that if she, the wife, will only continue always to be near and to arouse or to feign arousal, she will never have a rival even among the most attractive for his sex, such as it is, from which longish explication the wife detects primarily that she is not considered the most attractive by the one most near.
Without a word she lifts his keys from his jacket pocket, backs his sweet young Buick without looking into traffic and proceeds adroitly in reverse to the corner bar where her 7th 7and7 tells her a secret about boys and girls. To the gentlemen in the tavern her attractiveness is sufficient by several tenths, her nearness a matter of no dispute, her willingness the only occasion for a round of lively wagering. Those to whom her posture indicates a hasty readiness place bets they can’t afford to win or lose with those persuaded of her modesty. In a random forward gear, she drives one such home to meet her husband, who regards him with an active curiosity, then offers him a drink. Then, having made her point, she thinks, she retires to the bedroom alone, leaving the boys to drink away the night talking about the girls they’ve known. Toward morning, she hears her husband tell the one about the honest man. She laughs out loud. She hears them laugh.
Copyright ©1997
Very Short Novels 