2/10/12

Anxiety
By Linda M. Crate


Russell was nervous. He was about to ask his girlfriend of six years, Angela, if she wanted to marry him. He wasn’t anxious about asking her, he was worried about the response. They loved each other, sure, but he knew that Angela was something of a commitment phobe. Her friends had told him that the first time they had met.

He hadn’t really believed she could be that bad when he had first met her yet he had come to learn that she was unable or unwilling to commit to much of anything.

Yanking nervously as his tie, he bit his lip. Angela was always late. Of all days, she would be late today, too. Yet he knew that he ought to be more patient. She would be there when she was able to be there.

Angela walked in ten minutes late, which considering the way she was, wasn’t all too bad.

Russell smiled at her warmly. “Glad to see that you could finally grace me with your presence. I was afraid that I wouldn’t see you until I was beyond the grave,” he joked.

Angela laughed. “Don’t tempt me,” she teased, her brown eyes twinkling. “Next time I might just consider making you wait that long.” She observed him sweating and frowned. “Are you all right, Russ? I hope you’re not sick or anything.”

“Oh, no, just a rough day at work — foreman says tomorrow should be worse. I suppose I’m a little nervous about it, that’s all,” he lied.

“Well, don’t worry so much, you’re a smart guy. You’ll figure it out,” Angela persisted. “Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but why this restaurant? It’s a lot fancier than our usual hang outs,” she remarked. “I had to wear a dress,” she winked.

Russell laughed. “Well, I can see that. I should bring you here more often, I like seeing you dress up. You look even more like a goddess than you usually do.”

“The flattery never gets old,” she smiled. “But thank you,” she laughed. “You look good, too, minus the sweat.”

He chuckled. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay, I’m just glad that everything is all right.”

She smiled at him once again, and he felt his insides flip flop. He had always known that she had a wonderful smile, but it still had the ability to disarm him. He hoped that it always would. He hoped that there was never a day where he stopped loving her anew each and every day.

“Stop stressing, Russ, we’re not going to make it through dinner at this rate.”

“Sorry,” he apologized, face heating up in embarrassment.

The repercussions of this night were still unknown, he just hoped that it ended up on a good note for him. He would hate to find himself companionless at the end of the night. Yet after five years, he didn’t think he was rushing things.

They had made it thus far — he knew that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He could only wish with all his might that she felt the same way.

After dinner, he bent down on one knee. “Angela Margaret Davenport, will you make me the happiest man in the universe and marry me?”

She looked at him, her expression one of awe, as she gazed upon the diamond ring in the box. The expression on her face was unreadable. He didn’t know how to gauge it.

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours.

After what seemed a million eternities she finally laughed. She nodded. “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you,” she smiled.


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Linda Crate is a Pennsylvanian native born in Pittsburgh yet raised in the rural town of Conneautville. Her poetry has recently been featured in Magic Cat Press, Black-Listed Magazine, Bigger Stones, and Vintage Poetry. One of her short stories has been featured in Carnage Conservatory and she has an upcoming short story for publication in Dark Gothic Reconstructed Magazine in April 2012.