Short Story Friendship – The Guest
Photo credit: taliesin from morguefile.com
It was nearly midnight. I sat down in the couch of my room watching the ads come up, waiting for “The Breakfast Club”.
Bored of the repeated advertisements, I looked out of the window. My familiar friend, Rain was there. He seemed to provide me the music and happiness I otherwise lacked in my lonely life. My parents were dead. They died many years ago in a car accident when I was six. I was then raised by an uncle whom I liked. There was nothing like a Cinderella treatment, but I knew that they did not love me.
No one had loved me. Except for one person.
Diya often came to my mind. A flurry of pleasant memories would run through my head till it came to a pain-searing end. Our friendship had been scorched by the evil fire of betrayal.
“How could you , Diya? How could you do this to me?, I asked tearfully with her plagiarized article in my hands.
“But I want popularity. I want respect.”
“But it will not last forever . This mirage will end the day you leave school.”
“At least it is better than staying with you, you poor orphan girl”, she said mockingly.
My face hardened. “Well, I guess it’s goodbye then.”
But enough of that. I diverted my attention back to the TV screen. As a film critic, I was passionate about movies. “The Breakfast Club” was my particular favourite. Teen anguish had never been more beautiful.
It was just then I heard the doorbell ring. A sense of annoyance emerged as I went to open the door. A strange figure drenched to the skin, trembling with fever tumbled in and fainted.
“Diya?”. She nodded.
I leapt into action. I brought her up in front of the heater, got some fresh clothes for her and made two cups of coffee. She regained her consciousness after a while. Then she talked. She talked about her alcoholism, addiction, joblessness and her abusive boyfriend turned husband. By the end of it, tears were streaming down my face.
“Do you want to watch “The Breakfast Club?”,I asked.
“Yes”.She replied.
And we sat down together on my couch like nothing had happened for the past twenty years.
–END–
