So NPR had a writing contest recently called Three Minute Fiction. The idea is to write a piece that can be read in three minutes or less. Stories need to be 600 words or less, and must start with the sentence, “The nurse left work at five o’clock.” So, here’s mine.
House Call
By Miranda Mann
The nurse left work at five o’clock. She checked her watch as she left the hospital, her left thumb instinctively rubbing her bare ring finger. Five o’clock. The same time he used to leave work. As if that meant something. As if half the people in the country didn’t get off work at five. Might as well find significance in the blue car in the parking lot—he always hated blue cars—or the white sneakers of a passerby—his favorite brand. Selene reached her car and sat heavily into the driver’s seat.
Three months. Three months, and she still wasn’t used to going home to an empty apartment. She felt the sting of tears, and pounded the steering wheel.
No! It was right! I was right. I can do this.
The drive home was becoming automatic. She didn’t notice the bulk grocery store as she passed it, nor the giant statue of an Indian’s head at the city park. When she reached the Chinese buffet, she turned right without a thought of egg rolls or lo mien. A left at the movie theater brought her to her complex. And there she sat, in her car, as she had done every other weekend for three months, summoning the courage to walk to her apartment. An apartment that was devoid of husbands. An apartment that was empty of sons.
The knot in Selene’s stomach was growing tighter. Instinctively she glanced into the back seat. An empty car seat, a blue dog with a rattle in it. Her heart raced in alarm. How could she have been so careless? Ryan wouldn’t be able to sleep without his blue doggy. He’d cuddled it every night of his short life. True, he was now in preschool and no longer used the binkie, but the doggy…the doggy was sacrosanct.
She reached for the toy, feeling the silk on one side, the soft fuzz on the other. Selene closed her eyes and rubbed the silk against her cheek, just as Ryan always did. Her breath caught in her throat, and suddenly she was sobbing. Ryan. Little baby Ryan, so small in her arms. And him, standing with his arms around them both. She hugged herself. Josh.
Josh who she barely knew. Josh who she’d married. Josh who she couldn’t stand.
Mistake. All of it. Wrong, stupid, over.
She should have known. The ring told it all. When Josh proposed, he gave her a small diamond on a bare band. She loved it. Until her sister pointed out the stone’s large flaw. Then that was all she could see. The stone no longer held any beauty; she returned it. Josh had to borrow money to buy the one she chose for herself.
Selene blinked furiously, clearing the unwelcome tears from her eyes. “I’m never enough for you!” Josh had often yelled. And in the end, she had to admit he was right.
She looked again at the dog she held in her hand. Ryan needed his lovey. Dutifully Selene reached for her phone. She pressed the number 1. “Josh,” the screen read.
Still number 1?
She snapped her phone shut. Josh would just have to deal with a crying Ryan on his own. If he wanted her help, he knew her number.
But she stopped with her key in her apartment door. She pictured Ryan. Ryan crying. Calling for mommy, daddy, doggy, binkie. Crying. Confused. Suffering.
She shook the doggy, rattling in her ringless left hand.
She grit her teeth and dialed Josh.
