The Fight

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This was written for The Red Dress Club, a virtual writer's society.
Concrit is always welcomed and appreciated!

This week, we want fightin' words.
Write a piece about a fight. What happened? Why? Who “won”? What were the repercussions?
Word limit: 600 My count: 597

This is what happened immediately before this story, where I first introduced Sam and Jess, in my 2nd Red Writing Hood post ever. Read this, and then continue the story over there, if you like!

“Babe? I'm home!” Slamming the door shut with his foot, Sam shifts the bulging grocery sacks and drops his keys on the hallway table. “I forgot my phone here, so if you tried to call me…”

Making his way down the long hall that leads to the kitchen, he listens for the usual sounds that would greet him; Jess plunking away on her keyboard, or the murmurs of her DVR'd Oprah episodes. But he hears only silence.

Assuming she's stuck late at work, Sam steps into the kitchen and swings the groceries onto the counter, and begins putting things away.

The familiar plastic thunk of his smartphone hitting the wood of the kitchen table lets him know he's not alone. “It's right here.”

He looks up with a smile, but it's quickly replaced with a look of concern, when he sees his fiancée's grim face. Her eyes are red and puffy, like she's been crying, but the look of pure fury coming from them burns straight to Sam's heart.

“What's wrong, Jess?”

“I can't believe you even have to ask me that.” Her words clipped, her anger barely controlled.

“Is this a joke? I seriously have no idea what you're talking about, babe.” He steps around the counter and goes to take her hand.

“Don't touch me” she hisses, ripping her hand from his. “I saw the texts on your phone. From her.”

“Texts? Her who? I love you, Jess, but I'm completely lost here.”

“Her. From HER!” Jess grabs the phone back off the table and and angrily presses presses buttons, pulling up the message archive. “HER.” She waves the phone's tiny screen across his field of vision, and all Sam can tell is that there's a list of text messages from a single number.

“Jess, can I at least see them?” He reaches to her for the phone, trying not to cause unwanted contact that will just enrage her more. “Let me read them.” He forces his voice to remain calm and even; he will not rise to her level of emotion. It's the only way they'll get through this. “Please?”

“Here. Allow me.” She narrows her eyes at him and begins to read. “Hey sexy! Can't wait 4 2nite.” Clicking to get to the next message. “U make so me sooooo hot. XOXO.” More clicking. “Ooh baby. LOL” She levels her gaze at Sam. “It's sick, and we're DONE. You KNOW what my father did to my mom. I will NOT stand for this.”

Still processing what she has just said to him, Sam is dumbstruck.

She throws something on the table, but instead of the familiar thunk of the phone, it's a delicate tinkling sound, and she storms out of the room. Sam returns to the present moment and looks down, shocked to see a ring next to his phone, the diamond winking in the sunlight.

She's gone; he hears her stomping down the front steps.

Thinking she just needs some time to cool off, he doesn't go after her, and instead reaches for his phone to read the texts himself. She was right; there are more than a dozen messages over the course of the day, getting progressively more seductive. They're all from phone number 415-570-9637. Contemplating calling back to solve this mystery of the text messages, he keeps reading, and gets to the last one. “OMG. Wrong number, sooooo sry! LMAO”

He has to laugh for a moment, but then his mind returns to Jess. “She was pissed,” he tells the empty room. “I don't think she's coming back. Oh, God. I don't think she's coming back!”