This is part eight. Read part seven.
John awoke on the floor with a bit of a headache. After a few moments, he was finally able to recall where he was, and who he was. He would worry about the rest later. “What happened?”, he asked. A few more moments passed. He realized that nobody was going to answer. Slowly, he struggled to his feet. Where was Tiffany? Had she gone to get help? He assumed that was the case. He patted himself down, to make sure all the good parts were intact.
It was then that he noticed the note taped to his chest.
He plucked it off, confused, and turned it around to read it.
“John – You knocked your head pretty good. You’re still breathing, I’m sure you’ll be fine. I went to your place to see Joey. If you don’t show up, we’ll come check on you. Thanks for stopping by. Tiffany.”
He stared at the note in amazement. She left? She’s not even here? What if he had been laying on the floor dying? Did she even bother to prop his head up on a pillow? He looked down at where he had been laying. No, she hadn’t! And she went to see Joey?! His head spun. A dull ache still throbbed behind his right eye. He rubbed it profusely, which only made things worse. Carefully, he lowered himself down onto the couch, and studied the note again. His hand slid around behind his neck, his fingers gently dragging across his swollen bite. He wondered if maybe it was skin cancer. That thought made him crack a partial smile. The partial smile horrified him utterly. He shook it off, and went back to studying the note. The fact that she’d abandoned him here would not sink in. He refused to let it sink in. If she could manage to do that, that would mean–
His cell phone began vibrating wildly in his pocket. Ah, yes. He figured he knew who it was. Did he really want to answer, though? He felt no immediate urge to do so. In fact, he didn’t know what to make of any of this. Things that Tiffany had told him randomly surfaced in his mind. The whole situation was a confusing, jumbled mess. He wondered if he had a concussion. The phone continued its incessant vibrating in his pocket. Obviously, Tiffany’s relationship was much more complex than he’d thought. It probably wasn’t just hers, though. People are tricky. This sort of thing probably goes on all the time, and he just wasn’t privy to it. Or maybe he’d been so focused on his own wants, he’d just ignored the wants and needs of the people around him. The phone was practically leaping out of his pocket. Annoyed, he thrust his hand in, pulled out the phone, and flipped it open. “Yes?”
“You’re alive!” It was Brian, a friend of both his and Joey’s. That caught him off guard. He wondered why Brian would be calling. “Hello? John? You there?” He realized that, through the power of technology, he could simply ask.
“Brian. Yeah. What’s up? What do you need, man?”
“Just seeing if you’re up and around. Heard you took quite the spill over at Tiff’s.” News travelled fast. He wondered if he’d missed any calls from his family, or possibly CNN, wanting the exclusive story.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just getting ready to head out.”
“Great. Look, we’re all going over to the theater. Wanted to see if you wanted to go catch a flick.” John looked at his wrist, precisely where a watch would be, if he was wearing one.
“I don’t know if I can make it. Who’s we?”
“Me, Joey, and Tiff so far. No clue what we’re seeing.” John sighed, and looked around the apartment.
“Sure. I’ll be there.”
“Great. Call my cell when you get downtown.”
“No problem.” John closed his phone. He struggled for a moment to make sense of everything that was going on, but after a moment, gave up. There was nothing to make sense of. He looked at his wrist again, and realized that the next time he was at the store, a watch would not be a bad idea. Still, he should get moving if he wanted to get to the movie by a decent time. He couldn’t be out too late. It was a big day at work tomorrow.
The End.
Tags: Narratives
prefection has been reached.
the end???? As in… THE END?????
The end?? NO!!!!!!!
Is it truly the end of the story?
This “Tiffany” has no smarts or compassion if she were to just leave a “John” unconscious on the floor!
A concise resolution. On the other hand, some women would have ended it with four pages of self-blame, self-doubt, reliving the loss, reviving the hope, and soul searching to find out why it didn’t work out. The ’some’ is in there so I can say I haven’t made a blanket statement. Not at all.
Viva la difference!