Grace Wells

Issue 16

Flash Fiction

After an unusually lukewarm sex session, the porch swing swayed and creaked underneath the weight of two bodies. The sounds of cars passing on the highway behind the house rang louder than usual without their playful banter filling the air. The shining sun wasn’t hot, for the fall season had just begun. They rocked the swing back and forth, seemingly to the slow and uncaring rhythm of the wind. With every push and pull of the refurbished swing, the metal chains creaked with a sad and tired cry.

One question banged around her head. It was a simple question with a simple answer, but the wrong answer could have serious consequences.

“Do you think I’m beautiful?” she said, forcing the words out of her mouth before she swallowed them forever.

She’d never use the word coward to describe him. No matter where they were or what they were doing, she always felt safe and protected in his presence. He was usually the biggest and loudest guy in the room.

But he was afraid to tackle the question at hand. He’d been afraid to look her in the eye while having sex. He refused to kiss her for some reason. Instead of the slow and loving rhythm he usually kept while loving her, today was fast and inattentive—like he wanted to get it over with. His mind was somewhere else while he was supposed to be all in with her.

She could not move forward without asking. So she did.

His silence felt like a betrayal.

The porch swing sprang up with a creak from how quickly she stood up. She knew that she wasn’t as thick as the girls he usually went for. She wasn’t open to trying new things, especially the sexual kind like his past lovers. Hell, before him she never even hit a bong. She was the safe option for him. No risk of heartbreak or disappointment. But his words usually reassured her. He’d tell her how pretty she was, how smart she was or how much he enjoyed having her in his life.

But he never called her beautiful.

“Wait,” he said, barely above a whisper. “It’s not that I don’t find you attractive.”

She tried to talk, shout or make any sound, but her tongue felt too big for her mouth. She wanted to be pissed, but like the porch swing’s metal chains, she was sad and tired. She couldn’t bear to look at him because she knew if she saw his big chestnut eyes, she’d betray herself and forgive him.

Their relationship started as nothing more than a fling on Tinder. A little pick me up that they both needed to get over people who walked out of their lives way too easily. Sex turned into something more.

On warm summer nights, they sat on the porch swing for hours listening to each other’s favorite artists. He played her Mac Miller’s Devine Feminine album from start to finish. She played him every love song she’d ever heard.

And now, she had to leave before he talked her into betraying herself. Even though they weren’t official and it had only been a few months, she felt very attached. She ran to her car. As she drove away, she saw him in her rear-view mirror standing in his driveway watching her car speed away.

Days later, her phone was full of voicemails from him, all tearful and upset. “Babe, I didn’t mean what I said—or what I didn’t say. Please, just let me explain. We can’t just leave it like this.”  

Even though it had only been a few whirlwind-filled months, she knew that she didn’t owe him a thing. But if she didn’t owe him anything, not a goddamn thing, why was she driving over to his place right now? Why did she still feel like she was all in? Instead of a fiery rage inside, she felt dread. There was no certainty they’d have one of those powerful love stories people write about in books and movies. But what if it turned into something more? She had never felt this way for anyone before. 

She pulled up to the house, and there he was, waiting for her on the porch swing. She sat in her tiny car for a second, collecting her breath. Her grip on the steering wheel was so tight she felt the fabric peeling off into her palms. Her heart beat so fast it felt like the moment before you take a giant leap off a mountain and fall into the ocean underneath.

“Hey,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the bottom step of the porch.

“Hey,” he smiled, hopeful. She sat down on the porch swing next to him, trying her best not to let their knees, elbows or anything else touch.

“What’s up?” he said.

“Nothing much. What about you?”

“Just thinking about how I’m going to explain this to you.” He let out a sigh.

“Just tell me how you really feel,”

“Okay,” he said, a little hesitant. “I promise I’m not some jackass who’s been dragging you along for these past few months. It’s just that when you asked me if I thought you were beautiful, it took me by surprise.”

“Why would that surprise you?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it for the past few days. I know that I do, but then I have these thoughts that make me second-guess myself. I hear this little voice in my head that asks if I’m sure that I do.”

“Okay,” she said, still confused.

“Once the thought is in my head I just obsess and obsess over it until there’s something else to obsess over. It’s a vicious cycle that never ends. So in my head I’m going back and forth.”

“Either you do or you don’t. It’s not some great fucking debate!” She was getting frustrated.

“It’s not that easy!” he shouted, matching her energy.

“But, it is. Just look at me!” She grabbed his chin, forcing him to look her dead in the eye, where she could see and feel the fury in his eyes. But they softened as he scanned her face from her full lips to her nose peppered with freckles so light that you wouldn’t see them on the first or second look.

“And?” she said.

He removed her hand, angrier than he meant to. His confusion seemed to frustrate him as well. She knew that he loved looking at her and took notice when other guys looked at her. But for some reason, he couldn’t tell her she was beautiful while having this internal battle.

“I’ve got to go,” she said kicking the porch swing a few more times before standing, defeated.

“Okay,” he mumbled, defeated as well.

As she walked away, she listened to the porch swing’s slow creaks like it was playing her swan song. Just as she reached her car those sad tired chains squeaked louder than she’d ever heard.

“I’m OCD,” he blurted out, grabbing her hand after crossing the yard in record time.

“What?”

“I have OCD, that’s why I keep going in circles. I know that you’re beautiful, and I see other people checking you out. I just didn’t want to tell you something that I couldn’t be sure of myself. No matter how obvious it is.”

She took a second to let it sink in. She wasn’t sure how to feel. She wasn’t sure if what he did was sweet or just a jerk move. Why would he lie to her about something so important? Is it so hard to lie just to make her happy? The way he dragged this out felt like he was enjoying some sick part of it. At this point, could she even trust him? She studied his face for some kind of answer. Once again, he couldn’t meet her eyes. He kept his arms folded and picked at a scab on his arm.

This was obviously something that made him feel vulnerable. “Have you told anyone else that you have OCD?” she asked.

“It’s a medical diagnosis. My doctor knows. My family knows.”

“I’m not well versed in the realm of mental illness,” she said.

“That’s okay.”

“But I want to know healthy ways to respond to things like this for you,” she said.

“Really?” He seemed shocked.

“Look, you’re not an asshole or anything like that, but I wish you would’ve just told me in the beginning. You didn’t warn me. You didn’t really leave me a choice on whether I wanted to deal with this or not. Instead, you let me catch these feelings for you, and then you tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s fine,” she sighed, grabbing his hand and looking up at the sky. It wasn’t fine, but she felt as though it would be too hard to get rid of these feelings. She’d spent months getting to know this man and would have nothing to show for it. Plus isn’t this the point of being in a relationship? You learn to love someone, flaws included.

He squeezed her hand. “No, it’s not.”

Over time she saw two sides to him. One was everything she had ever prayed for, a warm, funny, adventurous and patient partner. But the other side of him could never overlook her flaws and would obsess over them until something else occupied his mind.

She could always tell when he was second-guessing her. He’d get quiet and distant, wanting nothing to do with her. He’d try to be close to her and tell her how beautiful she was; however, she could never figure out if his words were genuine or if he said them out of guilt.

But she stayed. She knew how to look past the pain he caused and how to love all of him even if he could only love the good parts of her.

Somewhere along the way, they stopped going out to the porch swing together. She went by herself. She sat out there day and night, hot and cold. She sat there to catch her breath and to remind herself why she was there, and who it was that she loved.