Fiction: finally left

It was because we had the fall open for the first time since we were five years old. Think about it. Fall was school. And when we could have stopped, we didn’t, and we didn’t again, and twenty five years is a long time between free Septembers.

We went down to the beach, and everybody else had gone home, so it was just her and me. And we’d known each other our whole lives. We’d been a couple since high school. But that vacation after your Mom finished her doctorate was the first time we’d travelled alone together.

It wasn’t the same as going in a group, like we used to do over spring break. The quiet places were all full, and that hotel felt so crowded with nobody but us staying in it. Everybody wondered why we’d never gotten married. And that weekend was when we had an answer. I’d wondered before that. I’d tried to go sooner. She had, too, I guess. But it took that vacation for me to realize we’d never have any quiet if we stayed together.

So I left.

She called me six weeks later when she found out we were pregnant.

I was staying in your grandmother’s basement looking for a university to hire me after the start of the school year. Those aren’t easy to find any time. Coming home seemed easier. And it didn’t seem right… this was how many years ago … anyway, we got married to put a good face on the thing.

Turned out we were wrong. There were a thousand quiet places left. A hundred thousand. But we’d never have found them if I had stayed at that hotel in the first place.


For the prompt exchange this week, David Wiley at gave me this prompt: He finally did it. After years of failure he…

I gave Katri at prompt: Of course, the logic was perfect if you considered it from her perspective.

About jesterqueen:
Jessie Powell is the Jester Queen. She likes to tell you about her dog, her kids, her fiction, and her blog, but not necessarily in that order.


Fiction: finally left — 9 Comments

  1. Pingback: Weekly Roundup: November 3-8, 2012 |

  2. I love this even though I felt a bit confused as I was reading and re-reading. (I know it’s my foggy brain because no matter how much I think I’m sleeping these days, it’s not enough to make up for years of deficit.)

    In my mind, the son or daughter the father is speaking to is hearing how dad believes his relationship became better after the parents decided to be together and search harder for those quiet places. (Please help me if I read the whole thing wrong.)

      • Yay! It didn’t seem sad to me. Written in a wonderfully roundabout way, the way people actually talk to each other a lot of the time — a tricky but cool way to go — but when I read the other comment, I thought I missed something. I’m glad I caught what you threw out there.

        I love that central theme of quiet places. I know just what that means. That’s what I wanted with my husband, but he heard noise whenever I was near.
        Hop over and visit Sparks In Shadow’s recent post Questions, New Stuff, Old StuffMy Profile

  3. I found this touching. I loved the constant oppositions. This is beyond amazing. One of those pieces that gets lost in the shuffle because it’s misunderstood yet should be placed on a pedestal. It really put the finger on what is most true about life – it’s all about what we never really do know, about our doubts, about never knowing if what we’re doing is correct, it’s about fucking life in its sheer utter beauty!

    I want to bookmark this page and come back to it again and again because I know every single I read it, I will leave with a different taste in my mouth and a different memory taking shape in my eyes. Great one Obeonekenobe!