Episode 4 of The Writer.
TW (aka The Writer) met Sylvia at a party. When they saw each other, it was lust at first sight.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said, five minutes into their conversation.
“Let’s,” he said, neither unable to resist nor wanting to resist.
After two months, they took off to Vegas for a quickie marriage. They didn’t leave their room for the gambling tables the whole three days they were there. It was room service and sex.
After a few months, they realized they had gotten themselves into a real mess. He was a nester and she was a traveller. He was a perfectionist, she didn’t care if she messed up. He was neat, obsessively so. She left things scattered everywhere.
One night she said, “Let’s take off and go to Timbuktu.” She had a thing for Africa.
“Are you crazy?” he said. “I can’t leave my job. I love my job. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“What you do is boring.” There was sarcasm in her voice. “You want to be a writer? You have to go out and experience the world. Like Hemingway. Your hero.”
“Yeah, right. I’m going to run the bulls.”
“Why not? It’s better than sitting on your butt in a library, waiting for some student to ask a question they don’t really want to know the answer to.”
“That’s not all I do. Libraries are the repository of all knowledge.
“Don’t give me that. You need to experience the world instead of reading about it in some book.”
“Those books have pictures too.” It was a dumb thing to say but he had said it.
“But you can’t taste or hear or smell those places. Can you?”
“You’re going to pick up and leave? Just like that?”
“I thought you liked nursing,” he said, desperate to change her mind.
“I do. But I can be a nurse anywhere and at anytime.”
“So you’re just going to leave me here?”
“You got a choice. Leave with me and have the time of your life. Or stay and play with yourself. But I’m going.”
The next morning she was packed. The cab picked her up just before he left for work. She opened the door to the taxi, then looked back at her husband. “Hold on a second,” she said to the driver, then hurried back to TW. The two embraced and kissed.
“I’m going to miss you,” she said.
She ran and jumped into the cab. Tears were in her eyes, and they were in his eyes too.
The taxi pulled away from the curb and headed down the street.
Then he said, “Maybe I should have gone too.”
He opened the door of the house and went inside. He scanned the room. Such a mess she had left behind.
“I definitely should have gone.”