Flash Fiction Fridays

Today, we focus on Ted, who is another main character in Sarah's Nightmare. 

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Ted ran his fingers through his reddish-brown hair, so he wouldn't do something stupid. "Angela, honey, calm down. We can work through this." He wanted to hold her, love her, make her understand it wasn't her fault for losing their baby.

She looked at me. Her plump lips parted, and he remembered how they tasted. "Ted, you know nothing about me. Mama was right. I shouldn't have married you."

"It's not your fault." There, he said it.

"What isn't my fault?" Her hand went to her hips.

"The baby. We can try again." He reached for her hand. "I love you, Angie. You know I do."

She snatched her hand away from him. "Of course it isn't my fault, you idiot!" Her voice rose in pitch with each word. She slapped him in the arm. "Jerk!" She proceeded to call him some other words, a few he had never heard outside the construction site where he worked. She turned away from him.

He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. Her hair smelled of strawberries. "Please, don't do this. We love each other. We can make this work."

She laughed, but the sound was harsh and bitter. Nothing he'd ever heard from her before. "Make it work? Ted, don't you get it? It's over." She pulled out of his embrace and sniffed. Tears fell from her eyes, and it broke Ted's heart to see his baby cry. "I can't be with you anymore. You don't get me. You think we can be h-happy, but we can't. I don't love you anymore." She hiccupped.

"You're not thinking straight." He reached out to her again but stopped. "Please. I love you."

She wiped her tears away but more fell. "It's over. I'm sorry, but it is. I can't be with you anymore. You don't get me. You don't understand." She swallowed. "I want a divorce."

He felt like she punched him in the stomach. His breath whooshed out of his lungs. He would've sworn his heart stopped. Those four words killed him as easily as if she had shot him. "What? Angie, no."

"Yes. I want a divorce." The words flowed easier. She meant them.

"Can't we talk about it? Go to counseling?" He didn't want to be nineteen and divorced.

"No, there's nothing to talk about." She crossed her arms. "I want you out of here."

It was then he saw his packed bags. He loved her. He gave up going to college for her, and she was throwing him out like yesterday's newspaper. He didn't understand.

What had he done wrong?