The Beauty of Imperfection [A One-Shot]

"Listen, you can't do this," a voice sighed exasperatedly into the receiver. "You know...because I really," she stood with the phone grazing her ear softly, "Please don't."


The phone clicked softly back into position, awaiting its next duty. Slowly, she pivoted around and sunk onto the kitchen floor in a defeated heap. Her hands carefully supported her head and cupped her cheekbones as the tears dribbled freely. Entangled above her head, an unnatural heap of hair rested, sculpted into a nest of neglect. Her current state of misery and distraction reflected thoroughly throughout her external image.


She reached for a strand of her hair and coiled it mindlessly around her finger, using it as a tool to gain some form of courage or gall. Straightening her body and reaching the kitchen counter to support herself upright, she extended her hand one last time for the phone. Embarrassment, defeat, loss, rushed through her veins as she lifted the phone directly to her ear and held it firmly into place.


"I remember when I met you. You were the spitting image of my idealistic guy never to date. We met at that disgusting laundry mat of all places, down on 46th street. It was inevitable though. It took you approximately 20 minutes to even muster up the courage to speak a single sentence to me, which I apparently found attractive at the crack of dawn and after 15 dollars worth of pocket change. There it is, the proof that I am not cheap. I spent a whole 15 dollars on you," she mused, brushing her cheek with the tip of her finger.


"Well," she laughed half-heartedly, "I better wrap this up before your ridiculous answering machine rejects my message."


"You made me look past everything. Past my experiences, past my bad judgment, past my many mistakes, you made me look forward and you loved me as the imperfect version of myself. You told me that no one could save you, but yourself. I think you were wrong though. Yes, you were definitely wrong."


Letting out an elongated beep, the answering machine soon silenced. She set the phone down in her final attempt, but quickly found herself redialing the exact same phone number. Her hands dialed in fury, as her face remained curious at the rapid movement of her fingers. She was lacking sensibility, but it was not clear to her.


"This is the last message, I promise," she paused, searching her hands nervously for the answer she could not find. "I guess that's it. There is no answer. There's not one solution to this problem. Let's face it, our relationship was, no...is, imperfect. That is how it was meant to be. And you, you saved me from that perfection."


"Just don't make a decision you are going to regret. If marrying someone else is what you desire most, I want you to do it. But if I know you correctly, you are just acting rash and making one of your many bad decisions," she finished. "I just wanted to let you know."

. . . . . . .

"I just wanted to let you know," the answering machine rang again. Placing a small plush box into his coat pocket, the man scrambled for his car keys and dashed through the door as the answering machine continued playing.


The once vibrant orange and pink shaded sky began to emit a silvery glow.


He raced into his car, driving off into the dim mid-afternoon sunset. He pulled up to a small house set aside a large field of deep green grass. Knocking on the door furiously, he reached into his pocket for reassurance. The door slid open, revealing a beautiful woman in pajamas with an expression of sheer concern.


"I saw you through the window of the jeweler's store looking at engagement rings. I couldn't approach you," she spoke, almost bitterly. "I just had to tell you what I felt while I still could. I couldn't accept the fact that you might spend your life with someone else. It was a fight we had. It wasn't the end of the relationship for me. I guess I just hoped that you might have felt the same."


Slowly, he reached into his pocket and handled the velvet box with care. Kneeling down, he revealed a small, pink, diamond ring. "You are just acting rash," he spoke softly, " to think that I could ever love anyone else and to think that I would pick out a ring for another woman. I suppose you have won my title of Most Imperfect.


She gazed at him wearily, but responded to her title in a small grin. Imperfection was no longer an insult to her. It was merely a phrase to declare that she was human. A human who makes many mistakes, acts on a whim, is angered easily, but can still be loved indefinitely by another.


Rain began to pour from above and cascaded the ground around them, accentuating the moment in a steady tempo. With a pink ring now adorning her finger, she placed her hand on his temple and felt his breaths caress her face. As lip grazed lip, he could taste a heavy film of lipgloss, which had been obviously dabbled on compulsively throughout the evening. As he felt the warmth of her hand in his and retreated from her lips with a small layer of gloss on his own, everything felt all right. The moment was not perfect, the rain continued its journey to the ground, but the world just felt right.





[click for ending note]
Thanks for reading! I really appreciate all of the support and kind comments. I hope you enjoyed this story.

<3 steph