Love At First Fry-Up

These streets stretch wide, curling up into the clandestine shops, hidden beneath the shattered streetlights. It’s dark. Too dark to observe the few people left, too dark to see my feet. As the floor begins to slope upwards; I can sense the change, but am blind to its warning. I’m just wandering these streets, lost in the darkness, no destination in mind. Even the road signs seem confused by my lack of direction; I’m only walking to forget. Then in an act of instant illumination, the street lights up, two circular beams reflect from the stone floor, and a loud engine plays to my pain as a car rounds up behind me, drawing level. With the window wound down; even in the poor light, I can make out the driver. A small, plump woman, mid-40s with a blonde wig slightly askew atop her head. My mum. She turns to me, now on a straight, and sighs.

                “Sean, get in the car, we can talk about this.”

                “Mum, just go away. I wanna be alone for a bit.” The tears that had near-dried were met by fresh, as new pain left my system.

                “Come on, she understands it wasn’t your fault. People do stupid things sometimes.” This was true, just not helpful. No one can understand, not really.

                My pace quickens as I near the park, surrounded by a fence that spirals and bends around the swings. As I open the gate, I hear the engine splutter to a stop and then silence. She approaches me from behind and I sit on the wooden bench, just past the gate. Lowering herself beside me, having first swept the leaves from the bench, she tries again.

                “Sean, baby, what you did was wrong, but you have to come back. She wants to see you, we can figure all this out.”

                “No we can’t mum. I can’t look at her, not yet. I need some time, just by myself, to think things through.”

                “Fine! You do what you want, I’ve tried. She still loves you, and I do too. No one blames you, that sort of s**t just happens sometimes. I’m going home, but I’ll wait just over there in the car for a few minutes, in case you change your mind.” A smart lady, she knew I was going to change my mind; I needed to think about what I’d done, learn to forgive myself. She walked away, closing the gate behind her.

                This park was odd, there was a swing set, brand new, with little else to occupy the children. I began imagining all the things that would happen here, when my son arrives in two months. We’d finally decided on having children after three years of marriage, three of the best years of my life. I fell in love the morning she made me breakfast, we’d had one hell of a night, I thought it would be over afterwards. She wanted more, which seemed only to please me.

I woke up to an empty bed, sheets thrown all across the room. There was a distant smell of fat and grease, which struck me as peculiar, even for my flat. I poked my head past the door, searching around the kitchen, and there she was, making me a full-English. The bacon was crispy (just how I liked it), toast was soft-brown and gently buttered. Two sausages mixed in with the beans, neighbouring the scrambled egg, my favourite type of egg. I remember how that plate looked, how the food tasted, but more, I remember her face as she sat and watched me enjoy every bite. All I could think was how much I loved her, which felt stupid at the time, after all, I’d only met her the night before. With a plate to define my soul-mate, and eyes finding joy in my appreciation, it was love, at first fry-up.

                I stand up sharply, the aching pain of a fond memory in this moment really requesting a walk. So we have great memories, I’ve still gone and messed it all up. I decide to confront it, if I’m going to be a man about this, I have to deal with what I’ve done. Walking past the gate, I see the arrogant sort of ‘I told you so’ look on my mother’s face. She’s a sort, but she loves me.

                The first steps into the living room feel like my baby steps all over again. Struggling to find her eye, I wander over to the chair beside her, and slowly raise my head. Before any words can come out, I break down again, tears throwing out my voice. She reaches out with her left hand (my favourite hand), placing it across my chest.

                “It’s OK, you didn’t mean it.” She whispers gently.

                “I’m so, so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you; you know that, don’t you?” Her head nods before she turns it upward to stem the flow of her own tears. It’s in this light, that I see the bruise my fist had left.

Author's Note

I wrote this about 30 mins ago now. As always, i hate my writing, so any advice would be great.
This was written as a sort of exercise, as i'm new to stories i'm trying to practice.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

This is a very good early effort at story-writing. You did a great job of grabbing my attention and keeping it until the end. I'm reluctant to say much about the way you put some of your sentences together, recognizing our cultural differences, but some of them seemed a bit odd and I had to re-read them to understand. Be cautious about expressing too many dissimilar thoughts, information or ideas in one sentence. I really like the ending.

[Tate Morgan]

You know Yours is the first writing that i read then sit back strike a match drag a cigarette as if I had experienced great sex and feel totally happy and content with it .lol Its Damn amazing

[Tate Morgan]

This absolutely stunning I don't know how to rate your work to my knowledge it is without compare

[Taylor H.]

This was amazing! I really liked it. Of course I would never forgive the guy for hitting a woman, but for literacy sake, this was really good. You should love your writing because I’m sure many others do.

[Jeannie Wilder]

gasp. Gary! you took a little breath away. Hell, I loved this! Not what I was expecting... mhm. wonderful! You shouldn't hate your writing when it's this good. Something I think that helps is that since you usually write poetry, you can put that easy flow into a story.
Oh, two things ...
Make 2 two. ( it just looks funky 2, and for stories unless it's money or something you generally write it out.)
and it's practice, for the author's note :)
Oh and I do agree with that featured review, it didn't quite lose me, but just watch the transition of thoughts etc. although sometimes it gives the effect of the character, so it wasn't distracting for me.
all the same.
Wonderful!

[Lilly]

I really enjoyed reading this. Had my attention from the start and the ending was great.
Well done!

[cest la vie]

Ok now.. this is really good. I mean that. I agree with the other reviewer. Suspenseful, great dialogue, etc, etc.

You are on your way my Poet/Writer Brit!!!