Dear Readers,
Here is the sixteenth weekly
very short story. Please feel free to leave a comment, pass the link to this
site on to others you think might be interested, make a monetary contribution to
the author (me) by pressing the 'donate' button below, or all or none of the above.
With thanks for reading and
best wishes on this Labor Day weekend of 2013,
Matthew Sharpe
Story #16
Sarah was stunned when she sat down across from Todd on the
patio of the Mexican restaurant. He had seemed so kind, articulate,
introspective, and handsome on his internet dating profile. She tried not to
judge, but she wanted to go out with someone who knew to wash his hair, hands, and
t-shirt before a date, and someone who, as he was reaching out to shake her
hand, would not say “Oh fuck” when his phone started to ring, answer it, and
proceed to get into a screaming fight with his ex-wife that everyone on the
patio could hear. The busboy poured water in their glasses and Todd yelled into
his phone, “So you’re telling me that Gina and the dog are at my house right now and you just left them there so you and that idiot can go to a movie?” He slammed the phone down on the table. “Unbelievable,” he
said to Sarah. “Unbelievable indeed,” she wanted to say, and get up and walk
away from this maniac, but the waiter came and asked for their appetizer
orders. “The shrimp diablo,” Todd said, and Sarah said, “I’ll have the same.”
“You realize,” Todd said, “I’ll have to leave in ten minutes and go sit at home
with my daughter, Gina, and the dumb dog my ex-wife got her. Shit!” Todd looked
off away from Sarah and frowned. She couldn’t move. They sat like that till the
shrimp arrived. Todd ate his with his grubby fingers. Sarah didn’t touch hers
because she was a vegetarian. The last spicy shrimp in his mouth, he said, “I
forgot to bring money so I’ll need you to pay for this. I have to get out of
here now, I can’t wait for the check.” Sarah put cash on the table—there wasn’t
even, as on other occasions, another Sarah looking on in horror going “What are
you doing?” Todd was walking away. He
turned around. “Are you coming or what?” Sarah got up and they walked the ten
blocks to Todd’s house. Todd opened the front door and went right to the back
of the house. Sarah went to the living room and sat on an ochre Swedish couch.
The house was a recently renovated mid-century modern, sparely but comfortably
furnished, a child’s colorful drawings on the walls and the fridge, and
everywhere photos of Todd and a beautiful, happy girl, frolicking in the
countryside or at the beach, smiling, laughing. He emerged half an hour later
in a clean dress shirt and slacks, hair just washed. “My daughter’s asleep, and
I’ve behaved abominably. I hope you’ll allow me to make it up to you. There’s a
great French bistro around the corner, I can order and the food’ll be here in
fifteen minutes. In the meanwhile I’ve got a first-rate pinot noir and a lot of
apologizing to do.” Sarah nodded her head. “I just have to check on the damn
dog in the back,” Todd said. He walked out of the room. Another half an hour
went by. In came the dog, an Irish Wolfhound twice Sarah’s size. His name was
Dolf. He nuzzled her face with his whiskers, and rested his shaggy, powerful
jaw on her shoulder as she scratched his ears and neck. Todd staggered in, the bottle
of pinot noir in his fist, three-quarters of it gone, and said, “I’m ready to
start apologizing now, though I haven’t ordered dinner yet. Let me just order
dinner.” Dolf leapt on the couch and pushed Sarah toward Todd by wedging his
enormous body between her and the cushion she’d been leaning on. She stood up.
“All right, Todd, I’m going, and I’m taking Dolf with me.” “But my daughter
needs that dog!” “No she doesn’t, having a dog is too much for her now, it’s
too much for all of you. Thank you, Todd, for an important evening. I really
mean it, I’ve learned a lot.” He sat down heavily on his couch and put his head
in his hands. Sarah waited by the front door while Dolf pressed his paws into
Todd’s knees and licked his face. Then the dog turned his head and gave Sarah a
meaningful look. “Oh, all right, Dolf, you go out back and sleep one more night
in your little house, and I’ll sleep in here with daddy,” she said, beginning
to undress.
fabulous! i want dolf.
ReplyDeleteI would say yes but alas he's fictional.
DeleteHow come I don't get OKCupid dates like that?
ReplyDeleteI witnessed about the first one-third of this story in Norwalk, Connecticut. Maybe you're in the wrong town?
DeleteHow are these all so excellent?!?!?!
ReplyDeleteWhat year was that pinot noir & why didn't Sarah drink the rest of it?
ReplyDeleteIt was a 2014 and she might have after the story ended, I never know what happens after they end.
DeleteThis doesn't seem like a story about which the author can argue that he doesn't know what happens next. You are a stupendous magic-machine of a writer.
ReplyDelete