I, John Smith

She threw it all away.

The ring I, John Smith, bought for her - she threw it away.

The ring I saved a whole year for-- She threw it away.

Who does that?

What kind of woman takes something so valuable and throws it away, like it's just another piece of trash?

I'll tell you what kind of woman...

The woman who left me, John Smith, for him...

Some guy she met at a biker bar.

"He's a badass," she said. "As a matter of fact, his nickname is Bad Ass. And he's nothing like you, John."

Mr. Bad Ass knew how to show her a good time, knew all the best bars and hangouts.

And I, John Smith, just worked ten, sometimes twelve hours a day.

I was boring, not an ounce of fun to be had.

Just boring John.

Even my name was boring, she'd said.

John Smith.

And now, here we sat in a hotel lobby, some ten years later, talking.

That guy, Mr. Bad Ass, was long gone, locked up for attempted murder and armed robbery.

And she waited for hours to get some time with me, just to let me know that she'd come to her senses, seeing how after four kids and far too much trouble that maybe, just maybe, I, John Smith, wasn't so bad after all.

And it didn't take much to see that. Afterall, she'd seen me, John Smith, on all the morning news shows.  She'd even watched me at the White House, walking casually through the rose garden chatting with the President. She had the same questions the President had. She, like he and everyone else, wanted to know how I did it all and what my secrets to success were.
And she saw me, just like the entire country that day, respond that the key to it all was letting go of those who didn't think you were good enough. And letting go of those who couldn't and wouldn't support your dreams.

And it meant having enough sense to know that anyone who throws it all away wasn't really meant for you in the first place.

And she wanted to tell me that that day that she'd heard every word I said, loud and clear.

She wanted to tell me that I was right.

I, John Smith, was the best thing that'd ever happened to her.

And in her quiet moments she was haunted by sad memories of how she threw it all away.

I sat quietly and listened to her every word, and I watched the tears fall like rain from her eyes.

At that moment, I knew that I, John Smith, was a perfect catch...

For once in my life, I was the one that got away.

And that right there?

That very realization?

It made my day.



....from Women of Color Writing Group, April 2012,

Writing Prompt: . Write a story that begins with "She threw it all away". (7 minute time limti)