[Note: This is one of my first pieces I wrote years ago, as I began to develop as a writer influenced by minimalism. Both fiction and non-fiction will appear on my SubStack.]

There was one blazer hanging from the cedar closet rod. It was pink so it was hers. The rest of the hangers were bare. The closet floor was almost all but scattered with hangers except for a few dress shirts. They were French cuffs, so they were his. There were more of his belongings on the bedroom floor. They would remain there where he dropped them until he returned to retrieve them. Or until he placed them back in their closet with the other shirts he took. Or until she threw them all away.

She considered all of this while sitting on the bed. Her back was towards the window. It was opened enough to hear her front door close and his car doors unlock.

The woman ripped another page from the book. It was the last page the boyfriend had highlighted. All of the men in his family had names that began with the letter ‘S’. She balled the page and tossed it into a pile of Shanes, Seans, and Steves.

The woman went to the window and looked out into the driveway. There were suitcases of various sizes surrounding the car. She didn’t see him. She opened the window wide and leaned out of it. She thought about falling. But not about jumping.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” the boyfriend said. He had stopped walking and held the handle of the suitcase as it rested on the sidewalk.

“When did you ever care?”

“I always did.”

“Then when did you stop?”

The man walked to the car. He carried the suitcase along with him. He pushed a button on his car remote and the trunk of the car popped open.

She looked down at her boyfriend from the window. Sometimes not answering doesn’t mean you do not have an answer. And sometimes not saying anything says a lot. So much is exchanged in these silent conversations. She knew his answer.

“So that’s it? You’re really fuckin’ leaving.”

The man put the largest suitcase into the trunk and laid it sideways.

She knew it was her time to reply again.

“You’re an asshole. You know that,” the woman said. “A real fuckin’ asshole.”

He picked up another suitcase and shoved it into the trunk. “I love how this is my fault.” He packed his car at a faster pace.

“Yes,” the woman said. “Yes, it’s your fault. You can act like this is over men calling the house. Or about me coming home late, or you not being able to stay out with friends as much.”

“So what’s it about?” he said.

“The baby.”

The man slammed the trunk.

“We agreed to not have it,” he said.

“And I changed my mind.”

“So I changed mine.”

The woman waited and looked at the man. He loosened the tie on his neck. “And the names you highlighted?” she said.

“That was before,” the man said. “Before we agreed.”

“And I said I changed my mind.”

“And I said I changed mine.”

The woman’s hands were clenched. Her nails pressed into her skin and made her palms red. It hurt her. She knew he was leaving.

“So go to her,” the woman screamed at the man. “Go.”

The woman left from the window. She walked to the closet picking up shirts on the way. She returned to the window with a handful of his shirts. She dumped them onto the lawn.

“Are you crazy,” he said. “Stop.”

He watched another load drop to the ground then ran across the lawn. He was not certain on how he was going to stop her. But he ran with the conviction as if he did.

The woman stood at the top of the steps. She coached herself under her breath. She pretended to have an argument and rehearsed all the things she would say when he stormed in.

She heard him open the front door and call for her from the porch. “I hope that made you feel better.”

He put his keys on the glass table that he’d bought. A pot with an Indian Hawthorne sat on top. He decided to take both the table and the plant on his way out. When he opened the porch door he opted to leave the plant. He decided this right before he saw the woman lying at the bottom of the steps.

The man sat by the hospital bed. The girlfriend’s back faced him. He preferred it this way. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail with a red band. He did not remember if her hair was that way at the house. He put his hand on her shoulder. But then rested it on his lap.

He wanted to say something. But there was no saying if it were better than the silence. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes. He patted the box onto his palm and opened it. He slid out a cigarette and put it to his lips.

“There’s no smoking in here,” the doctor said.

The man sat up in the chair. He had not noticed the doctor enter the room. “I’m sorry. You’re right it’s not good for the—,” the boyfriend said and nodded. Then he said, “It’s not good for the lungs.”

The man excused himself from the room. He stood outside the door. From time to time a nurse would pass and they would share smiles. He considered if they knew the woman’s situation, and if it was odd for him to smile. He nodded at a passing nurse.

The doctor exited the room. The man gently placed his hand on the doctor’s back. He turned around and looked at the man.

“I’d like to know,” the man said to the doctor. “How is everything?”

“There seems to be no concussion. No broken bones, just some small bruises.”

The man made a face showing concern. It wasn’t the answer he expected. He paused then said, “And everything else?”

“As far as the pregnancy?”

The man waited and stared at the doctor.

“We won’t know its status until after the blood tests.”

The man nodded. He shook hands with the doctor and watched him walk down the hall.

When the man came back he brought soup and a smile. She didn’t want either. Said the sight of it made her nauseous. He poured everything out into the toilet bowl. The boyfriend sat by the bed. He waited for her eyes to open. After a time he said, “How are you feeling?” The woman didn’t answer.

The girlfriend started to cry.

“I don’t know what to say,” the boyfriend said.

“I want you to tell me everything is going to be okay without saying anything.”

They both waited for him to say something.

“I fucked up,” the woman said.

“What do you mean?” the man said.

The man watched the movement of the woman’s ponytail until she stopped crying. And it was silent again.

A nurse came in and smiled at the man and woman. She was holding a manila folder.

“You’re all set to go,” she said.

The man said, “That’s it?”

The nurse said, “Yes, make sure she gets plenty of rest.”

He saw the woman getting out of the hospital bed. He wanted to ask more. But instead helped the woman change into her clothes.

“Go to the front desk and schedule another blood test tomorrow. You will know the results in the next couple of days,” the nurse said.

Before she left she added, “Don’t be worried, hun.” He nodded his head.

The next morning, the boyfriend woke up to a ringing phone. He rolled onto his side and opened his eyes. Her side of the bed was empty. The sheets were wrinkled and the cover was disheveled. He saw his clothes folded on top of the ottoman. He got out of their bed and dressed himself.

The man sat down at the kitchen table. The woman was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. There was a carton of eggs on the counter. He saw the oven light was on and strips of bacon being cooked. There was an empty plate at his seat. He waited.

The woman slid the bacon onto the plate. Then the eggs. Finally, the pancakes. “You’re not eating?” the boyfriend said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Why not?”

The woman didn’t answer. She went back to the kitchen sink. She turned on the faucet and scrubbed a pan. The man poured orange juice into a glass and took a sip. Nobody said anything. He watched her as she washed the dishes in the sink. He considered saying something when she turned around. But the phone rang.

The girlfriend came back into the kitchen putting her hair into a ponytail. She placed the dishes into the cabinets.

“Who was that?” the man said. “Was it the doctor’s?”

“No, it was a bill collector,” the woman said.

“From where?”

“I don’t know,” the woman said. “They asked for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes, for you. I told them you were sleep.”

She looked at him.

“So that wasn’t the doctor who called earlier?”

“No,” the woman said. “Another bill collector.” She didn’t look at him when she said it.

The woman sat at the table across from the man. He looked down at his plate as he ate. He saw her watching him. He ate a portion of the pancakes. They were the blueberry kind and topped with butter. “This is really good,” he said.

The woman drank her tea. She dipped the tea bag into the cup.

She looked at him.

“Is there any ice?” the man said.

“Yes, there’s some in the fridge,” the woman said.

He got out of the seat and walked to the fridge. He bent the ice tray and emptied cubes into the glass.

The phone rang again. The woman stood up from the chair. “I’ll get it,” the man said. The woman sat back down.

There was a phone next to the living room couch. It was a rotary phone. After each number was dialed, the rotary would spin back with a ding. He picked up the receiver.

“Hello,” the boyfriend said. “Who is this?” His finger twisted the cord of the phone. “You need to stop calling here,” he said. “Don’t call here anymore.”

The woman appeared in the hallway. She rested her body against the doorway.

“Who was that?” the woman said.

“I think another bill collector.”

“Was it a man?”

“Why?”

“Maybe it was the same place.”

“But he asked for you this time.”

“Maybe it was someone different.”

“Maybe,” the man said.

The man walked past the woman into the kitchen. He removed his plate from the table. He placed it into the sink and let the faucet run. He turned the water off. “I’ve been thinking about everything,” the man said. “Maybe I overreacted.”

The man wiped his hands on his pants. He walked into the living room. The woman was on the phone. “I didn’t hear the phone ring,” the man said. “Is it that guy again?”

“I have to tell you something,” the woman said.

The man’s eyes widened.

“It’s about the baby, isn’t it?” the man said.

“Yes,” the woman said. “It’s about the baby.” She was holding the phone receiver to her breast.

Leave a comment