literature

Convention Date

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Literature Text

I sat in the car and honked the horn twice, trying to get Kate’s attention before we became even later than we already were. The comic convention was one that she had been begging me to attend ever since we started dating four months ago, and it I figured it would be a good way for us to do something really big together. We had been friends for years before our friends collectively locked us in a room until we realized that we should be a couple. Even so, it was still awkward for us, with the two of us only meeting a few times to go see a movie and eat some pizza afterwards as our dates.

Kate finally showed up, carrying a huge suitcase that she tossed into the back seat and sitting next to me, dressed up as some superheroine I would never be able to identify but could certainly appreciate. She punched me in the shoulder to get my attention, and I began to drive off.

The convention was in the next state over, meaning we had several hours before we would arrive. Kate took advantage of her position as shotgun and switched on the radio, flipping through my saved channels and finding only alternative rock, NPR, and classic rock. I told her that she should just pick a station if she wanted to listen to something. Eventually she switched the radio to the CD player and reached to her suitcase, rummaging around in it until she pulled out a CD case, pulling one out and popping it in. The sounds of a jazzy saxophone filled the car, and Kate leaned back in her chair, smiling at the noise and leaning her chair back.

I immediately ejected the CD. Kate looked at me like I had insulted her. I reminded her how much jazz music in general just rubs me the wrong way. She pointed out how the rules stated shotgun controlled the radio and music in the car. I tell her that she should still consider the tastes of the other people in the car, and then Kate goes off saying that I shouldn’t get angry because she was doing what she wanted.

And after that, the whole drive became unbearable.

The two of us entered into a 65-mile-per-hour argument about everything that had happened to us ever since we had met. We lashed at each other, building up our frustration and rage at everything and letting it loose. I angrily shouted how it was idiotic that Kate was dressing up like a slut in her costume and she called out how I was being an immature jackass for thinking that I had any right to say what she could and couldn’t do. We argued about everything, movies, our pathetic amount of dates together, the fact that we hadn’t even had sex yet, each other’s clothes, favorite books, our cars, our jobs, everything.

Ten minutes from the convention, we finally stopped, either from running out of
things to say or because our voices were getting blown out. I just wanted to dump her at the convention and run like hell, but I had spent money on my own ticket, and damn it all I was going to enjoy SOMETHING today. Kate eventually spoke up, mumbling something I couldn’t hear between her soft voice and a near lack of one. I told her to say it louder, and she finally asked me a question.

She wanted to know if we had ever fought like that when we were just friends.

I told her of course not, and focused back on driving. One minute later I figured out what she meant.

I asked her if she thought our relationship was going to work. She said no, not after everything I had said to her, and probably not after everything she had said to me. We both stayed silent for a minute, and then we officially broke up.

I told her that I was sorry. That maybe we could be friends again. She told me that we had arrived, ignoring my request. When I finally found a parking spot, she pulled out her suitcase and made her way to the large hotel and convention center where the event was occurring, taking some time to stop at the entrance to think for herself. She eventually looked up at me and waved me over, ready to give an answer.

I hoped more than anything that it was that we could be friends again, without any romance attached.
Second writing assignment for my Craft of Fiction class. We were supposed to write a story that focused on the characters going on some sort of journey and an "epiphany moment" at the very end. Turned it in on Friday, so I don't have it graded yet. Also, there was a grammatical error when I turned it in (forgot the "and" in the first sentence so yeah I'm stupid for not proof-reading it properly.

Let me know what you all think in the comments section below!
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DarthVengeance0325's avatar
It's always tragic to give yourself to someone and find that you don't truly know them. Or far worse that your interests and lifestyle may actively antagonize them. Not even necessarily in a prospective romantic light as here.