It was an impossible situation. He couldn’t go back, but there was no way he was going forward. He couldn’t bear to hurt her feelings. She seemed so excited and happy that he was taking her advice, and making a different choice for once. If he told her how he really felt, it would probably break her heart. On the other hand, if he didn’t, how could he look at himself in the mirror? What would the neighbors, his ex-wife, his co-workers say?
He had to step up. Take charge of his own life. He couldn’t let her control him. There was no reason to put it off any longer. He had to tell her.
She returned from the other room, flashed him a smile, flipped her hair, and said, “Are you ready to go?”
He looked down at his feet, cleared his throat, and steeled his resolve. “I... don’t think so. They’re not... right... for me.”
“Oh.” She looked a little disappointed, but there were no tears, which was better than he’d expected. “That’s too bad,” she continued. “I really felt like those lime green high tops really... matched your spirit.”
“Well, I...” he began, feeling as though he had lost her forever.
“Sorry about that, sir,” she interrupted, giving him another smile. “Did you want me to grab you that pair of loafers that you were looking at when you came in? Size eleven, right?”
He nodded, breathing a sigh of relief, and reflected that sometimes uncomfortable conversations can have very comfortable endings.
|Writing Prompt #753|