Prompt of the Day from WritersDigest.com
You call an old flame from high school whom you still have
feelings for and ask to meet up. The flame says, “Sure, how about noon at the
pub by your house.” While waiting at the pub, your flame walks in—wearing a
wedding dress (or tuxedo). The flame looks at you and says, “I’m supposed to be
getting married today, but …” What happens? Write this scene.
Last Love
I sat there. Two
vodka and tonics later, he walked in…wearing a tuxedo. I felt my eyebrows
furrow with confusion. He greeted me first with his eyes then approached me. I
could feel my body temperature increasing with nerves. We hugged.
“I’m feeling
a tad underdressed,” I clenched my skirt and laughed.
“I’m
supposed to be getting married today, but,” he scratched his head.
“But what?”
“But,” his
eyes began to water. We both sat down.
“I caught
her with the priest.”
“What?
Priests aren’t allowed to do that.”
He laughed
at me.
“Only you
can manage to make me laugh during a time like this.”
I smiled and
laughed along.
“Let me get
you a drink,” I offered. “Can we have two whiskey sours?”
The
bartender handed us our drinks a moment later. We clinked our glasses together
and drank.
“To be
honest, I wasn’t going to come today,” he admitted.
“Why?”
“Come on,
Aly. Let’s be real with each other. Some people aren’t capable of being just
friends.”
I looked
down at my drink, not sure of how to respond.
“I still
love you,” he said.
I looked up,
now really at a loss for words.
“I still
love you too, Mikey.”
“Why did you
want to see me today?”
I looked at
him. I looked at the ceiling. I looked at Ed, the bartender. I looked at him
again. I chugged my drink, until there wasn’t a drop left.
“Do you
remember that night you and I went to Misha Harrington’s seventeenth birthday
party? We got super drunk and woke up the next day in her parents bed.”
Mikey
laughed with a look of sadness as if he was recalling it all.
“Yes. How
could I forget?”
“Do you
remember what you said to me when you woke up?”
He looked at
me. He looked up at the ceiling. He looked at Ed, the bartender. He looked at
me again. He chugged his drink, until there wasn’t a drop left.
“You
remember,” I said as he searched for more distractions.
“Yeah.”
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
“What you
said to me that morning.”
His tongue
traced his lips full circle. He looked down and cleared his throat.
“Can I have
another whiskey sour?” he asked Ed.
“Say it.”
“Alright,”
he cleared his throat again. “I said I hoped that one day I would be able to
wake up to you every morning until we were old and senile.”
“Yeah. What
else?”
He gave me a
look. I shot him one back. Ed handed him his drink. He chugged it down before
proceeding.
“And I’m not
talking out of a drunk teenage guy’s mouth. I love you Aly Lou.”
I smiled
with satisfaction.
“What is
this all about? What is the point of all this?” he asked sounding somewhat
aggravated.
I closed the
distance between us.
“I still
want to grow old and senile with you.”
I kissed him
before he could answer. When I pulled back his eyes were still closed. He
looked confused. Scared. Vulnerable. His eyes opened.
“And for the
record, I would never leave you for a priest.”
He laughed
and shook his head.
“It’s just
not that easy, Aly.”
“If it was
easy, it wouldn’t be worth it.”
His phone interrupted
the moment.
“I’m sorry,
hold on.”
He walked
away to answer. He shook his head a few times. He talked with his hands like he
did when we were sixteen. He tilted his head and quietly yelled into the phone
then hung up. He walked back over to me.
“Who was
that?” I asked.
“Molly.”
“Who’s
Molly?”
He just
looked down at his phone.
“Oh. The
cheater.”
“She’s not
that bad, Aly. It’s just- she’s very insecure. Her father was an alcoholic
and-”
“Of course.”
“Sarcasm
hasn’t changed either.”
“Here we go
again.”
“This is why
we could never be together.”
“Then why did
you come?”
I took
another sip of my drink.
“What does
it matter? I’m here.”
“It matters
a lot. Did you come because you wanted to? Or because your bride-to-be left you
for chronic masturbating hypocrite?”
He looked into my eyes.
He looked into my eyes.
“Answer the
question.”
“I came
because you were always the person I went to when something was wrong.”
“So I’m your
shrink.”
“No-”
“Then what
am I?”
“My first
love.”
I nodded my
head, understanding now.
“But not
your last.”
He took in a
deep breath and mumbled an unfortunate, “No.”
“Take a shot
with me, Mikey,” I looked at him. Through him.
“I don’t
now-”
“Like old
times.”
Ed handed us
two shots.
I chugged
mine while Mikey observed me.
“What?”
“I have to
go, Aly.”
He stood up
and left. I drank his shot. I looked at Ed. He shrugged at me. I was just his
first love. But never his last. He was my first kiss. My first slow dance. My
first bring-home-to-dad kind of date. My first drunk adventure. My first love.
My first breakup. And he was my last drink.
