“What could he expect me to do?”
The tremble in Janelle’s voice made Nick pause. At her sister’s reply, he recognized a need to remain hidden.
“Have you told him?” Tracey’s tone was soothing, comforting. Told me what?
“No.” Janelle let out a deep sigh. “He’ll be furious, I know he will. He’d been talking about this for months. And I saw some of the web searches…I’m just not ready, you know?”
“Maybe he’ll be okay. Come on, let’s go get a drink.”
Nick listened as the two women walked towards the other side of the room. He leaned back against the wall, wracking his brain about what Janelle was talking about. And then it hit him.
The baby stuff. Oh shit, she’d seen some of the searches for baby gear and freaked out. He knew she wasn’t ready for kids…Nick felt a plummeting in his stomach. Did she have an abortion? Did she feel that desperate she couldn’t confide in him? His hands clenched and he heard his jaw pop. Forcing himself to relax he straightened his shoulders and went to find his wife.
Janelle stood near the makeshift bar, aloof from the rest of the group, a fake smile painted on her face. Nick felt his anger melt away at her vulnerability.
“Hey.” He slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled his close. A light kiss on her cheek brought out an authentic smile.
“Hey,” she answered.
“Can I talk to you a sec?”
She chewed on her lower lip before nodding. They moved to a quiet corner.
“Janelle…I know. I know about…well, you know.” He glanced meaningfully towards the couch where she and Tracey had been speaking. Janelle followed his gaze and frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
Nick lowered his voice. “The abortion. I overheard you talking to Trace and I know you saw my web searches for baby stuff but that was for…”
“Wait.” Janelle held up a hand. “You thought I’d had an abortion?”
“Didn’t you?”
“NO! Oh my God, Nick. The breeder called. I told him we changed our minds about getting a dog!”
~*~*~
This week, write a 300 word fiction or creative non-fiction piece focusing on tension arising from a misinterpreted written note or eavesdropped conversation.
I’m also using the Inspiration Monday prompt: brush with life 
and the Studio 30+ prompt: no regrets
Pingback: Inspiration Monday: invisible sky « BeKindRewrite
October 21, 2012 at 6:24 am
Ha! That’s a pretty big difference. It kind of reminds me of an (intentional) misunderstanding my cousin set up with her parents. Her mom is fairly conservative, so when my cousin got a tattoo in college, she was a little nervous about her mom’s reaction. She started talking about “disappointment” and “things you warned me about doing” and “I tried my best to be safe”. By the end of the conversation, my poor aunt was so convinced she was going to be a grandmother that the tattoo was a relief.
October 20, 2012 at 1:45 am
Oopsie. Eavesdropping is never a good source of info! (Ehem, not that I haven’t done it…)
This was really cute =3
Well done.
October 19, 2012 at 6:06 pm
Brilliant use of the prompt and amusing twist at the end. Nice!
October 19, 2012 at 12:10 pm
Ack! Nothing good comes from eavesdropping! I love how wrong he was, but that he was willing to talk about it. I think the next scene would be very telling about what sort of person she is.
Laughing or spiteful?
October 19, 2012 at 11:16 am
Hello Mr Jumps-to-Conclusions-and-falls-to-his-death! Brilliantly done!
October 19, 2012 at 11:10 am
Haha! Loved it! What a spectacular misunderstanding!
October 19, 2012 at 7:31 am
Ooops. Oh, Nick Nick Nick…
The breeder. Heehee. Well done!
October 18, 2012 at 4:39 pm
Eavesdropping, misinterpreted conversations make great stories. Well done, Carrie. I love the “breeder” twist at the end about the dog.
October 18, 2012 at 6:54 am
hah, what a cute ending
that’s what you get for listening in!
October 17, 2012 at 9:20 pm
Dear Carrie,
The like button won’t work for me, but I liked this story a lot. Well done.
Aloha,
Doug
October 17, 2012 at 7:24 pm
Ahahaahahaha!!! Oh that’s GLORIOUS. It’s fucking HILARIOUS. I knew he had to be wrong (you always are when you eavesdrop) but I just love exactly HOW wrong.