The Question - Cover

The Question

by oldgrump

Copyright© 2020 by oldgrump

Drama Story: My mind conjured up all kinds of terrible things that question could be about.

Tags: Ma/Fa   Fiction   Tear Jerker  

Edited with my thanks by Barney R. Messed with by me. All mistakes are mine.


My mind conjured up all kinds of terrible things that that question could be about.


We were sitting in the living room, listening to classical music on the stereo. I was reading ‘Romeo and Juliet’. I had read it many times, so I was only half concentrating on the book. Annette, my wife of 6 years, was sitting across from me and she too was reading.

The first CD finished and the changer was bringing up the next one when I detected her head moving when she looked up from her book. She said “Jerry, can I tell you something without you getting immediately angry?”

My mind conjured up all kinds of terrible things that question could be about. “No Annie, you can’t, but you asked that question for a reason. Just spit out whatever you thought would piss me off.”

“Well, I’m sorry I said anything if just the idea of the question makes you get your ire up. Just forget it; I’ll deal with the problem myself.”

“Now you are getting me pissed. Just tell me what you wanted to tell me, I can’t promise I won’t get mad, but if you don’t tell me, I will be mad. You have about 10 seconds to decide if you’re going to try to chance my anger and tell me, or you will definitely feel my anger if you don’t tell me.”

I shut the stereo off and turned my attention on to my wife. She looked down at the floor and didn’t say anything for several seconds.

“Speak, or not only will I be angry, but I will not sleep in the same room with you until you do, you have used sex as a reward and as a punishment, so now it is my turn. I am now totally pissed off. So SPEAK.”


I’m Gerald Carpenter, I was 32 when my wife Annette Carpenter (nee Wilson) asked the question. I did and still have a strong sense of justice, and a temper. I am normally calm but push one of my hot buttons, and I don’t get even, I get back.


I’ve known Annie since before she started in kindergarten. She lived two houses down from our house. We moved into that house just before I started second grade. They were the first people to greet our family with a cheery “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

Annie was just going to be starting school, and my mother volunteered me to walk her to the school. An eight-year-old boy just knows that girls have cooties, so I let my mother know that I did not like the idea. That didn’t work, of course, so for the next five years Annie and I walked to school and we walked back from school once she was going full time.

The funny thing that happened when I started middle school, I missed Annie. I missed talking to her, I missed her smile, and I missed the feeling of being her protector. I tried to make up for it by walking over to her house and talking to her.

She apparently did not feel the same way, after the second time I went to her house, she got mad and told me she had made new friends and didn’t need me anymore.

Looking back on it a few years later, I realized that an 11-year-old and a 13-year-old did not know what or whom they wanted.


We rode the same bus once she started middle school, but I did not try to get close to her again. About midway through my freshman (9th) year, Annie came to me in school and asked why I was mad at her.

“Why do you think I am mad at you?” I asked

“Well you always were with me when we went to the same school, and we are in the same school again. You haven’t even said hi to me.”

“You’re right, I haven’t said hi, but two years ago my best friend screamed at me when I just wanted to remain friends even though we weren’t going to the same school. It is going to happen at the end of this year also because next year I will be going to high school, I don’t want to be hurt again.”

“I’m sorry, I was mad that you weren’t walking with me anymore. I was mad at you. You didn’t deserve it, but I was still mad. I know you will go to a different school next year, but you will still be on the same bus. Would you please sit with me on the way to and from school? I know what I said before, but I really didn’t mean it. Please sit with me.”

“Let me think about it; I’ll see you at the bus stop and tell you. I really was hurt, and I need to know it won’t happen again. OK?”

She nodded and went to her class.


Well, I started sitting with her on the bus. When I got a car, I drove her and a couple of her friends to school. Then when she reached the age that her parents would allow her to date, I was a senior. We dated almost every weekend. I took her to my senior prom. She was beautiful. I was by that time very much in love with her.

I was going off to a university more than a hundred miles away. Annie still had two years of high school. We talked about it, and she decided that she would test the dating waters, as I would not always be there when she wanted to go out. I was hurt but understood that most of what she had reasoned out was true. After that, she went her way and I went mine.

I dated some during my first year in college, but none of them were Annie. I started my second year by going to summer classes for a couple of my required classes. I had planned to do that so I would graduate in three years. Of course, by doing that I didn’t see much of Annie except for the week after the spring semester and the week before the fall semester. Most of the time when I was available, she was not. I was told she had a steady boyfriend and was with him or at her part-time job almost the entire time I was home.

I gave it up as a lost cause. Because none of the women on campus were Annie, I stopped dating altogether. When I reached my junior class status, I received a call from Annie.

After the hellos, Annie asked if I would take her to the homecoming dance.

I was surprised and hesitated for I guess too long of a time. Annie said, “I’m sorry I asked, you must have a serious girl now, don’t you?”

I responded with some heat; “No, there is no girl, the girl I wanted, told me two years ago that she wanted to test the dating scene, Then when I was home from school that same girl was ‘too busy’ to even talk on the phone with me. Does that sound like someone you know?”

All I heard was silence and my screen saying ‘Call Ended. Call time 1 minute 06 seconds’. I just looked at it for a minute. Then I decided that a trip back home was warranted. It was Friday, and I did not have any classes scheduled until the next Tuesday, and I was ahead on all of my papers that were due this semester.


I drove home and got a surprise when I got there. My parents were very angry with me for the way I was treating Annie. After they got their rants in, I asked if I could speak. They sheepishly nodded both of them looking like I caught them doing something that they shouldn’t be doing.

Then I tore into them. “The way I am treating Annie; a girl who I have loved since I knew what it was. Is that the same girl who told me she would be dating others when I went to college? Is that the same girl who never called and did not return my calls when I was home from school? Could that be the same girl who has not attempted to contact me for over two years; and she then gets upset when I asked her why she wanted me to take her to her senior homecoming dance? That girl? That girl called me last Friday, the first contact in two years, and then hung up on me when I asked why me and not her ‘steady boyfriend’?”

I continued. “I came home this weekend to tell Annie that if she still wanted me to take her to the dance I would gladly but seeing as I am getting shit on in the house I thought I still lived in, I will go get a hotel room.”

I picked up my overnight bag and left. Before I drove to the hotel, I turned my phone off. I had not set up my voice mail so no one could leave a message, but I would see the numbers

When I got to the hotel, I called Annie. She started crying as soon as she answered. “Please Jerry, don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry I treated you like I have. I was hurt and mad at myself for throwing you away just because you went to college. Please talk to me.”

“Annie I’m sorry that I got mad at you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t answer right away. There is no girl for me but you. You have hurt me twice now. I really should not count when I started middle school but it was still a hurt. I would be honored and proud to take you to your homecoming dance. If you still want me to take you.”

“I’ll be right over to your house and we can start planning.”

“Yeah ... Annie, about that. I walked in the door at the house and got my ass chewed before I could set my bags down so I am in a hotel downtown. If you want, I can come, get you, and take you to dinner and we can plan then. How does that sound?”

I got a squeal and “I will be ready in fifteen minutes.” Then she blurted out, “Jerry, I love you.” then the screen showed the call time again.

After I ended the call to Annie, I quickly checked my voice mail and saw that my parents had called three times. I did not call back. I was still totally pissed off at them for jumping in my shit.


I picked Annie up, and after dinner, we went to my hotel, and sat in the lobby and talked for over an hour. Annie told me that she knew she had messed up when she started dating others. She also told me that that steady boy lasted two dates. It seems he expected certain favors to go out with her again. After him, she decided that there would be no more second dates.

She also explained that she complained to her mother that she thought I would be mad at her for not talking to me. Apparently, her parents talked to my parents and something was lost in the translation. She promised that she would talk to my folks in the morning.

I told her how every girl I dated was ‘not Annie’ so there were no second dates. I also explained that I would be graduating the following year in December.

I finally got her around to talking about the dance. It was on a Friday night, and it was semi-formal. I gave her the money for the tickets and told her to text or call me about the color of the dress she was going to wear.

 
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