Crisis Averted

Crisis Averted - Korte Verhalen - EdivaniaLopes.nl

Here is another English short story for you guys! I’ve been going through my old Creative Writing folder and even though I had a good laugh about some of the things I wrote, I feel a bit proud that I stepped out of my writer’s comfort zone and produced a couple of stories that I — even now — enjoy myself. The only edits I have made were to correct grammar or a funny word here and there.

How are you guys liking this so far? I’m very curious to know, so please share your thoughts with me in the comments and let me know if I’m on the right track.

 

Enjoy,

Edivania


C R I S I S   A V E R T E D

“The first time I met my dad was actually quite a spectacle. He almost kidnapped me to the other side of the city in his fancy car and when we finally got there he presented the Asian sensation, my brother.”

“Oh really?”

“Anyhow, we had lunch together and eventually my dad disappeared and left us to talk. And all my brother could talk about were his ambitions to become the father of fries and the daughter he had at seventeen. He was a nice guy though. And at least he has ambitions, even if they’re just plain greasy – I wonder if he got far.”

“Uhuh.”

“The last time we spoke we didn’t part on such good terms.”

“That’s sad.”

“But he did call me the other day. I don’t really know why. I guess he felt like it? He said he wanted to see if I would like to meet up for drinks or something anytime soon. I didn’t really know what to do at the moment, so I just told him I would think about it.”

“Good.”

“Yes, I was very proud of little me indeed. But, what do you think? Should I go? I mean, meet up with him.”

“Do you want to go?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t really see why not…”

“Then just go.”

“But I’m not sure.”

“Then don’t go.”

“But why wouldn’t I?”

“You tell me.”

“Would you just help me out for a sec? Just… a sec. Please?”

“I’m trying! I’m just saying that if you want to go you should go and if you don’t want to go, then don’t. You come from an entire family of pricks and I for one would find it very hard to believe that he would actually show up, so why would you? But, then again, why would he even bother to call you if he wouldn’t show up? You just have to figure out if you believe him or not and you’ll be all set. There. I helped.”

“Yes, thank you for that.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay then, crisis averted.”

“Yeah… Crisis averted.”

A week later she met up with her brother. She went alone because she didn’t feel like hassling her husband anymore and he seemed to have forgotten she ever mentioned a brother. Now here she was, all alone, sitting in some diner that seemed to owe its existence to its persistent nostalgia. She thought of how funny it was that after more than a year, they were still in the exact same place and that, even though it was her brother had requested to meet her, she couldn’t help but feel nervous and wonder if there was still some room left for her in his life.

She sat there for almost two hours, hopefully looking up each time the door opened. When she had finally given up and took out her wallet, there he was. He smiled a soft smile at her, seemingly out of breath, his hair as if he had been standing upside down for a while. She looked up and tried to smile back, but was too curious as to how he had managed to appear right as she was about to leave, and so could only manage a short nod.

He told her he had been watching her through the window the whole time and that when he called he was determined to show up. He told her that he had pictured how they would start talking, that he wanted to see where this new brother-sister thing would take them. But when he had arrived and saw her there, all alone, looking nothing like him or his father, he became hesitant and had decided to wait outside until that unpleasant feeling inside of him died away. They stood there for a while, unable to speak to or look at each other. Eventually, she moved closer to him and as he stepped aside she made her way to the door without looking back.
 When she got home, teary-eyed with no trace of a smile, she heard the sound of her name coming from the kitchen. There she found her husband, who didn’t seem to have moved for the last four hours she’d been gone.


“Hey, where’ve you been?”

“Out. Met my brother at the diner.”

“How did that go?”

“Good, good. We had a nice little talk.”

“Well, I’m glad that turned out okay.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He hadn’t looked up from his paper once and the dirty dishes from that morning were mockingly staring at her from the kitchen sink. She went to the bathroom, washed her face and put on some clean clothes. When she walked past the kitchen – looking for something she had already forgotten about – there he was, still, staring at the same page of the same newspaper he had been clamping in his hands for the past three weeks. She wanted to say something, but knowing that she wouldn’t get an answer out of him she just put on her coat and walked out the back door. Now, where do we go?

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