The Ring
This short story follows the swing of emotions of a young wife, dealing with doubt, hope and the eternal ring of the cell phone that connects the beloved with the outside. The present simple tense used right throughout augments the sense of immediacy of the story as we share her zigzagging emotions. Send in your Flash Fiction contributions to Madhubashini Dissanayake-Ratnayake, C/O The Sunday Times, No. 8, Hunupitiya Crossroad Colombo 2
The phone ringing at 6.30 a.m. in the morning reminds me of the inescapable relationship my beloved has with his phone. We are running a little bit late today. I hurry up and pack our lunches and shove all the paraphernalia my baby will need during the day into a rucksack. My husband vanishes with his phone to a distant no hear zone, while I iron our clothes and precipitate our morning departure deadline.
Must be another time consuming, problem-solving phone call. His departmental problems seem to increase by the minute. We drop the baby at daycare and I wait for my office transport while he flies by. Perhaps he is working too hard and needs a rest. We wanted to go to India during the long weekend of my birthday but it never materialized. The beautiful weather and the trees in the green city of Bangalore could have done both of us a world of good. Take the time to be a couple, my mum always says. My parents have been married for almost four decades. She always says a trusting relationship rarely breaks down. A good marriage makes life worthwhile. His office has insisted on an official tour to Bangkok so we had to shelve our Indian plans. My transport too arrives. Too many phones ring around me making me exasperated.
During the lunchbreak, my colleagues chat with their spouses and my best friend with her husband to be. Wonderful holidays, future plans and great endevours. I glance at my mobile. He doesn’t like to be disturbed while working. Let’s give the man a break. I call up after work.
It would be good to have some quality time together. But lately he has been very busy. A fair maiden at the reception answers. He is not at his desk. Can she take a message? I hang up and try his cell. Maybe it has to be recharged. I continue with my weekday routine.
When I reach home, the baby is alseep. I get into the ‘complete the day’s work’ mode. He is a little bit late. My primitive mind tries to get the better of me. I think I hear his phone ring. I peep through the window.
Time passes me by. Someone knocks. I hear so many voices. Surprise, he whispers. As I won’t be here to celebrate your birthday, I thought of having a pre birthday party. I bought a cake and dinner. I didn’t forget the family, he smiles.
I invite them all in. It is a wonderful change. The cake appears as if it is on fire. Time does pass us by, but with a wonderful husband and a contented life who could ask for more? I ignore the mini bushfire and blow the candles out.
I hurry towards the kitchen to get some paper serviettes. His soothing voice can be clearly heard through the kitchen wall from the back garden. Of course we are going, sweety. You know I had to do something, so that they wouldn’t suspect anything. . . I do love you darling. . . ‘
Sudddenly the world stops.