11:07 on a Saturday Morning (story by Jill inspired by Jennifer's photo)

 

Jenn gave me this image on July 2, 2021, as my writing prompt. I love when she gives me flower images! My initial thought was to go with them being for a wedding or something sweet like that. But I had a really strange dream that night that had me waking up in a weird funk the next day—all the passengers on a cruise ship had died in my dream (none of the staff had died though—weird; right?). Then I noticed that half the roses were, in fact, dead. So, I knew that whatever I was writing about with this one wasn't going to be a particularly happy tale. And here's what I came up with.

11:07 on a Saturday Morning

    It wasn’t like Nathan to be late. I mean, it was—on some level. But usually he wasn’t more than, like, maybe 15 minutes late. 

    The waiter, Chad according to his nametag, approached our table again, “Can I get you anything else while you’re waiting? You want to put in an appetizer order?” He smiled at me.

    Maybe Chad had seen a lot of people being stood up over the time he’s been a waiter, but I wanted to reassure him that I wasn’t one of them. “Um, I’ll just wait a few more minutes.” I smiled at him. “He must be stuck in traffic.” Then I added, “Or something.” 

    I was sitting outside—in front of the restaurant in a walled-in patio section—and could clearly see that there was no traffic. It was 11:07 on a Saturday morning.

    I pulled my phone out of my purse. “Come on, Nate. Where are you?” I said quietly. I noticed a missed text from him. “Oh,” I said. “There you are,” I added while clicking on it.

    The text simply said, Breaking up with you. Wanted to do it in person. Sorry. 

    At first I laughed. Was he even serious? I glanced around, expecting to see him standing nearby laughing.

    We hadn’t dated for too long, almost five months. But didn’t that rate a breakup in person or, at very least, a phone call?

    But I realized he probably wasn’t joking and blinked a few times. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. You’re not going to cry here. 

    Nathan had blown me off and crying about it here, on the patio of Delaney’s, felt like a bonus point for him on some level. I mean, if someone was even keeping track of who had more points. And even if they were, Nathan had just shut that game down with his last text. 

    Breaking up with you. Wanted to do it in person. Sorry. 

    I tilted my head back for a second. “Who does that,” I said quietly. The tears did spill out a little, and I rubbed my forehead, covering my eyes. 

    Didn’t he just tell me that he loved me this morning when he called to invite me to brunch? I thought for a second. Well, did he? Maybe he hadn’t. 

    “Oh, God…” I said quietly. 

    The waiter was approaching my table again. I shook my head and fumbled for my purse. “How much do I owe for this mimosa?” I said quietly. Then sniffled loudly while grabbing my napkin to dab at the corner of my eyes. I sniffed again.

    He shook his head quickly, “Nothing,” he said, trying a smile. “It’s on me today.” 

    “Thank you,” I squeaked out my words. Then in an even higher pitch added, “I’m sorry.” 

    He nodded and quickly walked away. I didn’t blame him for his abrupt exit. No one wanted to see someone getting blown off.

    I sat there staring at the pot of half-dead baby roses on the table. How hadn’t I noticed them before?

    After a couple seconds, I signed heavily and stood up. Determined to walk out of Delaney’s with dignity, I smoothed the front of my skirt. 

    I was worth more than being with a man who would dump me via text. 

    The contrast between Nathan’s inconsideration and the waiter’s kindness was breaking my heart a little too. 

    I pulled my wallet out of my purse. There were days when I no longer carried cash, but I was thankful that today was not one of them as I pulled a 20-dollar bill out and placed it on the table. I picked up my drink, finished it, and placed the empty glass on the money.

    I started for the exit, adjusting my purse strap on my way. 

    My eyes met with Chad’s as I was nearing the door. “Thanks again,” I said in a clear, even tone.

    “Hang in there,” he said. 

    I nodded. “I am.”

—Jill Morse (July 3, 2021)