Waiting for it

January 18, 2010

[Photo courtesy of Jen.]

The apartment building would have been something in its day.  Granted it’s day was pre-WWI.

He had been there for five years.  He found his rent-controlled apartment three days after he moved to the city.

People hate that story.

He loves to tell it.

The two things are not completely unrelated.

It really is quite a building.

It is.

And she never, ever expected to visit it again.

She leans against the door.  She thinks about how it looks like it belongs on the vault of a bank in an old western movie.

Then she wonders if she’s ever seen an old western movie.

She sees the hand knocking on the flaking black paint.  A little too hard.

She knows the hand is hers, but has no recollection of giving the command.

She considers bolting as she tries to make sure her little black dress is looking good…  if a bit much.   He always loved how she made curves classy.  She hopes she’s doing it again.

The door opens.

It’s him.


Messy hair.  Unshaven.

He looks even more handsome than he did a month earlier.

The day she broke his heart.


He looks equally as shocked.

“Hi,” she says.  Hesitantly.

“What are you doing here?”

“That is a good question…  Very good question.”

“Are you drunk?” he asks.

“Nooo.  Are YOU drunk?”

“No.  It’s three in the afternoon.”

“It is?”


“I may be…  just…  I may be a little bit drunk.”

“You don’t say.”

“I do.”

“Why are you here?” he asks.

“We broke up.”

“See, that’s more of an answer for ”Why aren’t you here?” he replies.

“Bad day…” she manages to get it out before the tears.  Or maybe it was a tie.

She falls into his arms.  He holds her up.  He holds her away.

But then he hesitantly hugs back.

“I lost my shoe,” she sobs.

“I see that, sweetie.”

She senses that he hates himself a little for using a term of affection.

She doesn’t care. And quickly forgets.

‘I… don’t want to be broken up… just for tonight,” she whispers.

“That’s not fair.”

“I know.”

“You can’t just… do that…”

“I know,” she whispers as she put her hands on the back of his neck and pulls his face to hers.

“You… can’t…”

She pushes him into the apartment, as he closes the door behind them.

She takes him by the hand and leads him to the couch.

He exhales.  Loudly.  The way you do it when you know that you should stop what you are doing.  And also know that there is no fucking way in the world that you are going to.

“I’m lop-sided,” she says sadly.

He kneels down in front of her.

He ever so lightly slides his hand down her smooth leg.

He takes her foot in his hand.  He gently removes the shoe.  He continues to hold her foot.  He gives her a kiss just above her bent knee.

She puts her hands in his hair.  He puts her foot down.  She guides him back up to his feet.

She lies down on the couch, and pulls him down on top of her.

She kisses his lips.

He doesn’t move.

“Will you ever forgive me?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, staring intently into her blue eyes.

“Will you ever forget?”

“No.  Never.”

“But I lo–” she begins, before he kisses her quiet.

A passionate kiss.  Angry, even.

She is taken aback for a moment, before matching his intensity.

With her spaghetti straps having already fallen off of her shoulders, he grabs the front of her dress and pulls it down with a sudden yank.

She gasps.

He kisses down her neck.

She begins to speak, but he covers her mouth with his left hand.

He kisses her chest. With some aggression.

With a hunger.

But then he feels it.

Her tears sliding down her face are reaching his hand covering her mouth.

He removes his hand.

He keeps kissing.

Much more softly.

“Will we still be broken up tomorrow?” she whispers to the top of his head.

He pauses and rests his face against the middle of her chest.

“I don’t know, sweetie.”


Words by Peter DeWolf


19 Responses to “Waiting for it”

  1. Ben said

    Oh Peter. Stogging with you gives me a happy face.

  2. jen - tsk said

    I absolutely loved the story and the phot was perfect! But…I want to finish the story!

  3. […] As if this is not exciting enough, today is also the launch of a new collaborative STOG. Five Bloggers. Five Photographers. Five Stories. Peter (and Jen) start off the festivities with this piece. […]

  4. […] As if this is not exciting enough, today is also the launch of a new collaborative STOG. Five Bloggers. Five Photographers. Five Stories. Peter (and Jen) start off the festivities with this piece. […]

  5. Hope said

    You, Sir, are the master of dialogue.

  6. rachel said

    my heart is in my stomach. this is amazing.

  7. Gofahne said

    I adore this story.

  8. Kaci said

    Looovelovelove this (and everything else you write, pretty much).

  9. AJ said

    You wrote last week that you had lost your word doodle mojo (I don’t agree), but you certainly haven’t lost your stog mojo! Can’t wait for the rest.

  10. Meg said

    Love! Felt my heart in my throat.

  11. Amy said

    ahhh this is amazing! I can’t wait to read more 🙂

  12. Alexia said

    Oh how heart-wrenching, Pete. Now I have to think about this as I fall asleep tonight. Not cool. What IS cool is the emotion that you provoke.

    PS: Is it awful that one of the things I keep thinking is: She lost her shoe? Were they her favourite shoes? Designer? I would be heart-broken if I lost a shoe. Especially if it was favourite one or a designer one. I have favourite shoes but… feel like buying me designer ones?

  13. tia said

    i have a tear in my eye.

    hasn’t everyone been here before?

  14. Michelle said

    Okay THAT? That right there that you just wrote?, It broke my heart and took my breath away all at the same time. You just hit way close to home. Years ago, but still, close to home.

    Great job. Loved it.


  15. […] Peter wrote on Monday. […]

  16. […] The day she broke his heart. More… […]

  17. TSG said

    This is amazing. I’m so glad I discovered this site. Your story is heartbreaking and depressing yet so beautiful and eloquent. Beautiful sadness. That’s what it is.

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