What You Get

For my writing workshop. Assignment: one character wants something the other character is not willing to give.

I am not depressed by the fact that my older brother does not call me very often. Honestly, a few years ago a ‘good day’ would mean that he hadn’t called at all. He used to bombard me with late-night calls and text messages. No, I am not depressed that my brother decided to stop calling me from bars and county jails and the local strip club. If I am depressed, it is because he came over to the apartment today, and asked for the one thing I promised I would never give up.

            “Helen? Are you home?” he called, entering the house without the decency to knock or at least ring the startling buzzer.

            No, of course not. My door is unlocked but I’m not here. My imaginary husband and children are home, though. Because I don’t live by myself or anything.

“In the kitchen, Oliver,” I called back.

He sauntered in with a cumbersome grin stretching his face out in a way that made me feel like he would need plastic surgery after our conversation.

“So!” he said, and then didn’t continue. His hands were twisting nervously.

“So?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. “Did you come over here for a reason? Or do you want to just stand there and watch me wash the dishes?”

“I’ll dry,” he said, still grinning and annoyingly chipper.

I pulled my hands out of the dishwater and put them on my hips. Soapy liquid dripped from my knuckles onto the linoleum. “What do you want this time, Oliver?”

He sighed, and the Great Grin faded slightly. “I wanted… to ask you something. About, well, um.” He swallowed. “I-want-to-ask-Ashley-to-marry-me,” he spit out.

“And that involves me how?”

“I wanted to use Grandma Mabel’s ring.”

So the truth was out. He didn’t even really want to visit me this time. He’d just come for the ring.

“No,” I said flatly. “You can’t have it.”

“No?”

“I can’t believe you would even ask for it!” I turned on my heel and stormed into the living room.

Oliver was right behind me, though, following me like a wasp or a hornet. “Do you really hate Ashley that much?”

“This has nothing to do with Ashley. I like Ashley. There’s nothing wrong with her. But you’re not going to use my ring.”

He gaped at me. He didn’t understand.

“Helen, we both know it’s not really your ring,” he said through his teeth.

“She gave it me, Oliver! She gave it to me. On my sixteenth birthday. Or don’t you remember?” I asked with a scowl. When he said nothing, I continued. “No, you don’t. You weren’t there. You were out with Charlene. Or Kimmy. Or one of those girls with the food names. Candy, or Tootsie, or something. You remember that, don’t you?”

Oliver’s anger dissolved into a picture of complete shame. “I just wanted something really special to give to her,” he said softly.

“You had something special. You got Grandpa’s car. And you sold it! You sold it, and you drowned yourself in all of that special.”

“Even if I had kept that car, I couldn’t give it to Ashley instead of an engagement ring.”

I laughed. He still didn’t understand. “No, you couldn’t. I’m still not going to give it to you. See, you still got the better end of the deal. You got the car, and all the money that came afterwards. And now you’ve got a good life ahead of you with a good woman.”

“What’s your point?”

“This ring is all I’ve got, kid.”

Reviews

[deeps]

I like this story i think it is wonderful.
Wonderful use of imagey and detail.
This is very well written. Enjoyable read.