She Thought He Was Her Brother’s New Roommate – So She Told Him Everything

She thought he was her brother’s new roommate, so she told him everything. On Friday evening, Sharon Han walked into her brother’s kitchen carrying a slow cooker she had been ordered to return 3 weeks ago. Brian wasn’t home. That didn’t concern her. His back door was unlocked and he had texted earlier that someone was coming around 7 to look at the spare room.
Sharon found the someone standing at the refrigerator with a bottle of water. Black t-shirt, jeans, probably late 20s. A set of keys rested on the counter. She remembered Brian’s text. Tony’s coming by around 7 to look at the room. You must be Tony. The man looked over. Yeah, perfect. Sharon put down the slow cooker. I’m Sharon, Brian’s sister.
Before you sign anything, the shower makes a noise like somebody trapped a goose in the wall. Tony glanced toward the hallway. Good to know. And don’t let Brian control the thermostat. Also, Mrs. Baker next door believes lawn care should begin before most people are conscious. Tony opened his mouth.
Sharon had already opened the refrigerator. No soda, of course. 5 minutes later, she was telling him about an arts council event that had fallen apart that morning. Somewhere after that, the subject became her mother, then Richmond. I interviewed for a job in Virginia last week. Tony stopped drinking. My family doesn’t know. He lowered the bottle.
Sharon waved him off. Don’t look at me like that. You’re moving in. You’re basically furniture. I don’t think that’s how roommates work. She sat at the kitchen table. If Richmond offers it, I think I’m going. The front door opened. Brian walked in. He looked at Sharon, then Tony. Why are you here? Returning your slow cooker.
Meeting your new roommate? Brian frowned. That’s not my new roommate. Sharon turned slowly. Tony sat down his water. Brian pointed at him. That’s the sound guy for Saturday. Sharon stared at Tony. You let me talk for 20 minutes. I tried twice. Brian laughed. Not a polite laugh. He put one hand against the kitchen counter and bent forward until Sharon considered throwing the slow cooker at him. It isn’t that funny.
Brian tried to answer. Nothing useful came out. Tony stood by the refrigerator, looking uncomfortable enough that Sharon decided she disliked him slightly less than her brother. “Okay,” she said. “Explain.” Brian wiped his eyes. “The guy looking at the room is Tony Ramirez.” Sharon pointed at the other Tony. “And this is Tony Hawk.
” She looked at him. Tony gave a small nod. Hawk. Sharon waited. He waited too. Seriously? Unfortunately, Brian started laughing again. Sharon grabbed the slow cooker. I’m taking this home. Brian immediately recovered. Mom gave me that. Then respect me. Tony leaned against the counter. Sharon turned on him.
And you? Why didn’t you correct me? You asked if I was Tony and I am. There were contextual clues. You didn’t leave much room for context. I paused once. I took a breath. That isn’t the same thing. Brian opened a cabinet and took out the case Sharon had assumed belonged to the prospective roommate. Inside were wireless microphones.
Tony was a freelance sound engineer. Brian was helping coordinate Saturday’s Pikeville community fundraiser and the arts council had partnered on the event. Tony had come by to collect equipment Brian had stored for him. The keys on the counter weren’t Tony’s. Brian had told him where the spare key was hidden outside so he could let himself in.
Sharon looked at the microphones, then at Tony. You could have held one of those up. I was trying to get a bottle of water. Very suspicious behavior. I see that now. Brian had started laughing again. Sharon pointed the slow cooker at him. One more sound and this goes back in my car. Brian pressed his lips together. She set it down.
I hate this house. You’ve been here 12 minutes. Long 12 minutes. Sharon collected her purse. Then she remembered exactly what she had said before Brian came through the door. Her hand stopped on the strap. Richmond. Tony was closing the microphone case. Sharon waited until Brian went to find an extension cable, then nodded toward the back door. You outside.
Tony looked toward the hallway. Should I be concerned? Yes. He followed her onto the porch. Sharon pulled the door almost closed behind them. About Richmond. Tony leaned against the railing. I don’t know anything about Richmond. Good. Except what you told me. Less good. I figured. Brian doesn’t know. Tony nodded. My mother definitely doesn’t know.
Another nod. So you can’t mention it. I wasn’t planning to even accidentally. How would I accidentally mention your job interview in Virginia? I don’t know. People do things. Tony studied her for a second. You’re worried I’m going to announce it during a microphone test. Now that you’ve said that, yes, I won’t. Sharon exhaled. Thank you.
She started down the porch steps. Tony spoke behind her. For what it’s worth, you sounded like you’d already decided. She turned. I haven’t. Tony lifted his hands slightly. Okay, that was all. He went back inside. Sharon stood beside her car, mildly irritated that he hadn’t argued with her. Saturday morning, she arrived at the fundraiser just after 8.
Booths filled the community grounds. Volunteers were carrying folding chairs across the grass, and somebody had already misplaced a box containing half the printed programs. Sharon found it under the registration table. By 9ine, she had answered six vendor questions and redirected a food truck that had parked in the wrong place.
Then she heard a voice from the stage. “Can I get that mic again?” She looked up. Tony sat behind the mixing console. Of course, he did. He saw her. Sharon looked away. 10 minutes later, she looked back. He caught her again. This happened often enough that she eventually walked over. Are you watching me? You keep looking at me. I’m checking the sound booth.
Very responsible. Do your job. I was. Sharon left before he could see her smile. The afternoon became busier. Brian worked near the stage while Sharon moved between vendors and the arts council table. Tony saw her talking with local families, calming down a nervous firsttime artist and finding a missing chair for an elderly vendor.
She seemed perfectly comfortable. Then her mother arrived. Mrs. Han found Sharon near the program table and immediately handed her a container of food. You didn’t eat lunch. I did. A granola bar isn’t lunch. How do you know what I ate, Brian? Sharon looked across the lawn. Her brother suddenly became very interested in a cable.
Her mother noticed Tony nearby. Is that the sound engineer? Yes, he’s cute. Mom, what? I have eyes. Tony was close enough that Sharon desperately hoped the speakers had damaged his hearing. Her mother handed over another container. Take that home, too. Good thing you aren’t going anywhere. I don’t know what we’d do without you around here.
Sharon’s fingers stopped against the cardboard box of programs. Across the table, Tony adjusted a level on his console. He didn’t glance over, didn’t pause. He simply put on his headphones and continued working. Sharon recovered before her mother noticed. I’m sure you’d survive. Your brother wouldn’t. That’s probably true.
Brian shouted from the stage. I can hear you. Her mother shouted back. Good. The moment passed. Near sunset, Sharon found Tony packing cables beside the sound booth. She said a plastic cup of lemonade next to him. Tony looked at it. What’s this? That’s for not having facial expressions around my mother. He picked up the cup.
very specific tip. She would have noticed. Your mother spent 5 minutes trying to send me home with pasta salad. She likes you. She doesn’t know me. That has never stopped her. Tony took a drink. Sharon started to leave. Sharon. She looked back. He raised the lemonade slightly. Your secrets safe.
This time she didn’t make a joke about it. Thanks. She headed back toward the arts council table. A few steps away, she caught herself smiling. She immediately found a box to carry. The Arts Council hired Tony for two more events. Sharon learned this from a production schedule on Monday morning. His name appeared beside audio, Tony Hawk, which felt unnecessarily specific now that she knew exactly which Tony Hawk he was.
Their next event was a small outdoor concert in Goldsboro. Tony arrived early enough to have cables running before Sharon finished checking vendor permits. For most of the morning, they worked separately. That should have made things normal again. It didn’t. Sharon found herself stopping near the sound booth whenever she had five spare minutes.
The conversations were smaller now. She told him about a local painter who had submitted an application without including a single photograph of his paintings. Tony told her about a wedding where the groom had requested a microphone 10 minutes before the ceremony and then refused to speak into it. Tony didn’t compete with Sharon for airtime.
He asked questions that forced her to be more specific. When she complained about an event, he wanted to know what had actually gone wrong. If she mentioned a difficult vendor, he usually asked whether the person was difficult or merely annoying. Apparently, there was a distinction. She also learned more about him. Tony had spent two years doing full-time production work in Raleigh.
The pay was steady, but his schedule belonged to somebody else. Concert loadouts could finish after midnight, followed by another call the next morning. Eventually, he left and went freelance. The work still kept strange hours, though at least he got to decide which strange hours he accepted. “Doesn’t that scare you?” Sharon asked while they were setting up the Goldsboro event.
“Every February,” she laughed. He offered no inspiring explanation afterward. “February was simply bad.” Sharon liked that answer. During sound check, one microphone refused to cooperate. Tony replaced a cable and handed it to Sharon. Say something, she tapped the microphone. Something from the booth. Tony looked at her. Useful.
Sharon faced the rows of empty folding chairs. Tony Hawk is not Brian Han’s roommate. The microphone went dead. Sharon looked toward the booth. Tony had muted her. She raised the mic again. Nothing. A volunteer nearby laughed. Sharon gave Tony a thumbs down. He returned to the soundboard without visible remorse. Over the next week, their conversations continued in pieces during setup while carrying equipment occasionally over coffee after everyone else had gone.
Richmond stayed out of them until Thursday. Sharon was behind the stage checking the afternoon schedule when she noticed a missed call from a Virginia number. There was a voicemail. She listened once, then again. The Richmond organization was formally offering her the position. The salary was better than she’d expected.
They wanted her to start in 6 weeks. She had until Monday to respond. Sharon sat on the edge of a road case with her phone in her hand. A few minutes later, Tony came around the back of the stage carrying an extension reel. He saw her there. His pace slowed. He set the reel beside another case and went back to work.
Sharon watched him reach the stage steps before speaking. They offered it. Tony turned. Okay. She waited. That’s all. You haven’t told me whether congratulations is appropriate. A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. I don’t know yet. Tony came back and leaned against the railing. Sharon showed him the email. He read only the section she pointed to.
The email confirmed a 6 week start date and a full-time position in Richmond. She took the phone back. I have until Monday. Until Monday for what? Brian’s voice came from behind them. Sharon turned. He was carrying two boxes of event programs. Nothing. Brian stopped. Sounded like something. It’s work. What work? Sharon reached for one of the boxes. Brian didn’t give it to her.
His attention shifted toward Tony. Tony remained beside the railing. Brian’s expression changed. You know. Tony didn’t answer. That was enough. Brian looked back at his sister. What does he know? Brian, we’re working, so tell me later. I will. When? Sharon had no answer ready. Brian put the boxes down harder than necessary.
You’ve known him for what, 2 weeks? That’s not the point. It kind of feels like the point. His radio crackled. Someone needed him near the entrance. Brian picked it up. I’ll be there. He grabbed one box and left the other. Sharon watched him cross the grass. The rest of the event went badly in ways that had nothing to do with the event itself. Brian stayed busy.
Sharon stayed busier. They spoke when work required it and avoided anything else. Tony didn’t bring Richmond up again. By the time the final guests left, the sun was down. Sharon was inside the Arts Council tent counting leftover programs when she realized her purse was still behind the stage. She walked back and heard Brian before she saw him.
Tony was coiling cables near the equipment van. Brian stood beside him. What did she tell you? Tony kept working. You should talk to Sharon. I’m trying to then talk to her. Brian lowered his voice. She’s my sister. Tony stopped coiling the cable. Then ask her. Sharon stepped around the corner. Both men saw her. Brian looked embarrassed at being caught, then irritated about being embarrassed. I have to finish tear down.
He walked away. Tony bent to pick up another cable. Sharon retrieved her purse from the road case. She could have explained herself. She wasn’t ready. Instead, she took the equipment van keys from her bag and held them toward Tony. Help me load. He took the keys. Yeah, they worked without talking much.
Tony carried the heavier cases to the van while Sharon checked each item against the equipment sheet. when a speaker stand caught on the edge of the cargo door. She climbed inside and pulled while Tony pushed from below. It finally slid into place. Sharon nearly fell backward. Tony caught her forearm. You good? Yeah.
He let go once she had her balance. Sharon moved deeper into the van to make room for the next case. Tony handed it up. Neither mentioned Richmond. For the moment, that helped. Brian didn’t ask about Richmond again. That should have made things easier. Instead, every conversation between them became slightly unnatural. On Wednesday, he called to ask whether Sharon still had his extension cord.
They spent 4 minutes discussing a $12 extension cord. Neither mentioned Virginia. Their mother still knew nothing. Sharon considered telling her twice over the phone, then decided both times that news involving a possible move should not begin with, “Are you busy?” By Friday, she had two days left to answer Richmond.
That evening, the Arts Council wrapped a small event outside Goldsboro shortly after 8. Sharon hadn’t eaten since lunch. Tony was loading the last audio case when she asked whether he wanted food. They ended up at a diner off the highway. The place was quiet except for a family in one booth and a man at the counter watching baseball with the sound off. Sharon ordered a burger.
Tony removed the mayonnaise from his. She noticed, “You don’t like mayonnaise? I don’t trust it. That’s not a reason. It shouldn’t be warm. It came from the kitchen. Exactly. Sharon watched him scrape the last bit from the bun. You know this is unfair. What is? You know my family. You know about Richmond. You know I once dated a man who took his mother on our second date.
You volunteered that information. I thought you were going to live with my brother. I still don’t understand why that made it relevant. Sharon ignored this. You have an unfair advantage. Tony picked up a fry. “You know almost nothing about me.” She started to argue, then realized he was right.
She knew what he did for work, and February was apparently terrible for his bank account. Beyond that, most of Tony’s life was still a blank to her. Apart from the ridiculous number of audio adapters in his bag, that was about it. So Sharon started asking. His favorite movie turned out to be Jaws, which she found disappointingly normal.
He hated mayonnaise because he’d worked at a sandwich shop in high school and had once cleaned an industrial container of it off the floor. The two pairs of headphones in his work bag served different purposes and Sharon regretted asking after his explanation reached the subject of frequency response. You lost me. You asked. I didn’t know there would be technical consequences.
Tony smiled and took another fry. Eventually, Sharon asked about Raleigh. He was quieter with that answer. He’d moved there at 23 for a production job and stayed almost 3 years. For most of that time, he’d lived with his girlfriend Aaron. When she got a job offer in Atlanta, they spent several weeks assuming Tony would go, too.
He’d even looked at apartments and contacted production companies in Atlanta. Then one night, while packing up his equipment, he realized he was preparing for a move he didn’t actually want. Aaron wanted Atlanta. Tony wanted to leave his production job, but he didn’t want to leave North Carolina. They tried long distance briefly. It ended.
Sharon turned her straw between her fingers. Do you regret staying? Tony ate a fry. Ask me in February. She laughed. I’m serious. So am I. He wiped his hands on a napkin. Some months are better than others. He left it there. Sharon appreciated that. They stayed until the waitress refilled Sharon’s coffee without asking and began wiping down the empty tables around them.
Tony drove her back to where she’d left her car at the event site. The parking lot was almost empty. Sharon got out, but Tony came around the truck because her event binder was still behind his seat. She took it. Thanks. Sure. Neither walked away. Tony’s attention dropped briefly toward her mouth.
Sharon noticed her stomach tightened in a way that had nothing to do with dinner. He moved a little closer and Sharon said, “I should probably tell my mother I’m moving to Virginia.” Tony stopped. “That wasn’t where I thought this conversation was going.” Sharon laughed so suddenly she had to cover her face.
“Sorry, don’t apologize. I’m just adjusting. I haven’t even accepted the job. Then you’re technically not moving, right?” Tony stepped back enough to remove the question hanging between them. Sharon hugged the binder against herself. Good night. Night, Sharon. She drove home annoyed with herself. By Sunday, avoiding the conversation with her family had become more exhausting than having it.
Dinner was at her mother’s house. Chicken, green beans, and a casserole Sharon had been eating since childhood. Brian arrived late and sat across from her. Halfway through dinner, Sharon put down her fork. I got a job offer. Her mother looked up. Where? Richmond. The room became quiet. Sharon explained the position and the salary. She mentioned the 6 week start date.
Her mother listened without interrupting. Brian concentrated on his plate. When Sharon finished, her mother asked, “When did you interview?” “Last week.” “And when did they offer it?” “Thursday.” Her mother folded her napkin once. Were you ever going to tell us before you left? Sharon had prepared for disappointment.
She hadn’t prepared for that question. Mom, I wasn’t hiding it because she stopped. Her mother waited. Sharon tried again. I knew you’d be upset and I thought Brian would think I was leaving everybody with. I don’t know everything. Brian finally looked up. I thought you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.
I do trust you. You told Tony that was an accident. Brian leaned back. That’s somehow worse. Probably. Her mother got up and began collecting plates. Sharon reached for hers. Leave it, Mom. I said, “Leave it. I’m doing dishes.” There was no dramatic exit. Dessert still came out because her mother had already made peach cobbler. Brian ate his.
Sharon managed half of hers. When she left, her mother hugged her at the door, but the hug was shorter than usual. Brian stayed behind. Sharon sat in her car with the engine off. Her phone was in the cup holder. Tony’s name was easy to find. She could already imagine telling him how dinner had gone.
Her hand reached toward the phone, then stopped. Sharon put it in her purse. She started the car and drove home without calling anyone. Monday morning, Sharon opened the Richmond email before she got out of bed. The acceptance link was still there. So was the decline button. She closed the email. At breakfast, she opened it again.
By noon, she had written most of a polite refusal and saved it as a draft. The job itself wasn’t the problem. She wanted the position. She had wanted it enough to spend two evenings preparing for the interview and another Saturday revising the presentation they’d asked her to give. Then, Sunday dinner happened. Her mother had sent a text that morning asking whether Sharon had taken home the leftover cobbler.
Nothing about Richmond. Brian hadn’t contacted her at all. And then there was Tony. Whatever was happening between them had barely started, but Sharon kept thinking about that parking lot outside Goldsboro and what might have happened if she hadn’t brought up Virginia at exactly the wrong moment.
Staying in Pikeville suddenly seemed easier. That bothered her. At 3, Sharon arrived at a community center outside Goldsboro to prepare for an arts council workshop. Tony was already there checking the room’s sound system. He looked over when she entered. Hey. Sharon put her bag on a chair. Tony watched her take out her clipboard, put it back, then immediately take it out again. What happened? Nothing. Okay.
He returned to the speaker. Sharon lasted about 15 seconds. I think I’m going to say no. Tony turned around to Richmond. She nodded. Do you want to? The question irritated her mostly because she couldn’t answer it. I don’t know. Tony sat on the edge of the stage. Sharon began explaining the practical problems.
Richmond meant finding somewhere to live. Her mother was upset. Sunday dinner was still sitting heavily with her, and Richmond’s timing couldn’t have been worse. She didn’t mention Tony. She didn’t need to. His expression shifted. Don’t put me in that answer. Sharon looked at him. Excuse me. That came out wrong. It definitely did.
Tony rubbed his palms against his jeans. I mean, if you don’t want the job, fine. That’s your decision. But if part of why you’re staying is because you and I are. He stopped. Or what? Sharon asked. I don’t know yet. Great. I’m doing badly here. A little. Tony got up. I like you. Sharon’s irritation lost some momentum.
He continued before she could respond. A lot actually, which is inconvenient timing. Very romantic. I told you I’m doing badly. That got a reluctant smile from her. Tony looked toward the empty chairs. Then back at her. If you stay because this is starting to be something and 6 months from now you hate your job or wish you’d gone.
I don’t want to be the guy sitting across from you when you realize that. He paused. I don’t know. That sounded better in my head. Sharon leaned against the chair behind her. So you want me to go? I didn’t say that. You’re making a strong case. I want you to decide without trying to predict what happens with us. That’s impossible.
Probably. He picked up the cable he’d been working on. Sharon stood there for a moment. Then she took out her phone. She didn’t press decline. Instead, she walked outside and called Richmond. The conversation lasted nearly 20 minutes. Sharon asked whether the 6 week start date had any flexibility.
Then she asked about hybrid work. The hiring manager explained that the first three months would require her in Richmond most of the week. After onboarding, the position allowed partial remote work depending on the event calendar. There was another detail Sharon hadn’t considered. The role covered parts of Virginia and North Carolina.
Some work travel would bring her south anyway. It wasn’t convenient enough to erase the distance. It was workable enough to make the decision different. Sharon went back inside. Tony was taping down a cable. She walked past him and sat at a table with her laptop. He didn’t ask. She opened the offer. Read it again, then clicked accept.
The confirmation appeared on screen. Sharon stared at it long enough to feel nervous all over again. She closed the laptop. Tony. He looked up. I took it. He stood. Congratulations. Sharon narrowed her eyes. That sounded painful. I’m working on it. He smiled. This time, a real one. Sharon walked closer.
So, what happens to this? Tony glanced between them. I don’t know. Excellent planning. You’re the event coordinator. That is not how relationships work. I wouldn’t know. Apparently, I can’t even identify roommates correctly. That was me, right? Sharon folded her arms. I’ll be in Richmond most of the week for the first 3 months. I heard.
I’ll still be back here sometimes. Okay. She waited. Tony seemed to understand what she wanted from him, although it took him a moment to say it. We could try. Try what? Whatever this is, Sharon smiled. Very specific. I work in audio. You’re asking the wrong department. He stepped closer. This time, Sharon didn’t mention Virginia. Tony kissed her.
It was brief at first, as if he was still checking whether she’d changed the subject. She didn’t. When they separated, Sharon studied his face. Something occurred to her. You’re younger than I thought. Tony pulled back. What? I assumed Brian’s roommate was 30. You thought I was 30 this whole time. Approximately. I’m 27.
I know now. Tony looked genuinely offended. Do I look 30? Sharon picked up her clipboard. Don’t ask questions you may not enjoy hearing answered. Sharon. She walked toward the stage. behind her. Tony called, “That’s not an answer.” She smiled and kept walking. Two weeks later, Sharon’s apartment was half packed. Her books were already in boxes.
Her kitchen was next. On Saturday afternoon, she drove to Brian’s house carrying one of those boxes because her mother had decided Brian’s backyard cookout was also a convenient place to distribute everything Sharon wasn’t taking to Richmond immediately. Nobody called it a farewell party. There were burgers on the grill and folding chairs scattered across the yard.
Brian had invited a few friends. Sharon’s mother arrived with enough food to suggest Virginia was experiencing a supply crisis. Brian opened another container on the patio table. You know Virginia has grocery stores, right? His mother removed the lid from a casserole. Not my cooking. I walked into that. Yes. Sharon smiled from her chair.
Things with her family were better. Although nobody had managed to make the move feel completely ordinary, her mother had started asking practical questions about Sharon’s Richmond apartment, Brian had volunteered to help with the first drive north, then complained about Sharon’s music choices before she’d even given him a date.
The hurt from Sunday dinner hadn’t vanished. They were working around it. Brian came outside carrying a bottle opener and stopped beside Sharon. Here he dropped a key into her palm. She recognized it. His spare house key. Keep it. You know I don’t live here. You show up without warning anyway. Sharon turned the key over.
I could do that without a key. I know. That’s why this is mostly for the safety of my windows. She slipped it onto her key ring. Thanks. Brian bumped her shoulder with his before heading back toward the grill. A few minutes later, the back gate opened. Tony walked in carrying a bag of ice. Sharon glanced at Brian. Is that your new roommate? Brian didn’t even turn around. Don’t start. Tony had heard her.
He stopped inside the gate. Should I leave and come back? Too late, Brian said. Tony put the ice beside the cooler and came over to Sharon. He had driven up after finishing a morning job in Goldsboro, and the edge of a black cable was still sticking out of his work bag. Sharon reached for his hand.
Before Tony could sit down, the gate opened again. A second man walked in. Brian waved. There he is. Sharon looked over. Who? My roommate. The newcomer came across the yard. Brian made the introduction. Sharon. Tony Ramirez. Tony. My sister Sharon. Sharon stared at Tony Ramirez. Then she looked beside her at Tony Hawk.
Back to Ramirez. Oh, come on. Brian immediately started laughing. Tony Hawk looked from the new roommate to Sharon. Wait. Sharon pointed at him. Now you understand. Brian nodded toward Ramirez. I told you Tony was coming to look at the room. You neglected a last name. I didn’t know there would be two Tony’s in my kitchen. Tony Hawk considered this.
Okay, you get 5% of an apology back. 50 10 25. He held out his hand. Deal. Sharon shook it. Tony Ramirez looked at Brian. “Do I want to know?” “No, probably not,” Sharon added. The cookout stretched into the evening. Sharon’s mother sent Tony Ramirez home with food, even though he’d known her for less than 2 hours.
Tony Hawk received another container of pasta salad. Sharon received four containers and strict instructions concerning refrigeration. By the time the yard began to empty, her trunk barely closed. Tony carried out the last box. Richmond kitchen was written across the side in Sharon’s handwriting. He fitted it between a lamp and a bag of towels.
Sharon leaned against the car. I’m going to be back next Friday. I know there’s an arts council event. I know. She studied him. You could sound a little happier. Tony closed the trunk. I’m trying not to make plans for you. That made her laugh. Sharon took out her phone and opened her calendar. Friday. She added an event beneath her arts council schedule.
8:30 Tony. Then she held up the screen there. Now it’s my plan. Tony read it. Only 30 minutes. That’s how long you lasted before I told you my entire life. It was closer to 20. Don’t ruin this. Tony kissed her. Sharon caught the front of his shirt and kept him there a little longer. When she finally opened the driver’s door, Tony tapped the roof.
Drive safe. She got in, started the engine, and lowered the window. Tony. He bent slightly toward her. Sharon looked at him. I’m glad you weren’t the roommate. Yeah. Brian would have made this extremely weird. Tony laughed. Sharon backed out of the driveway. At the end of the street, her phone lit up on the passenger seat.
She waited until the stop sign before picking it up. Tony, 30 minutes is insulting. Sharon typed back. Then don’t be late. She put the phone down, checked the road, and turned toward home. Sharon spent 20 minutes telling the wrong Tony, something she had been avoiding for weeks. The awkward part wasn’t that a stranger knew.
It was going home afterward, and realizing the people closest to her still didn’t. She eventually had to have that uncomfortable dinner with her family. She also had to make the Richmond decision without asking Tony to make it easier for her. Neither conversation went perfectly, which was probably why both mattered.
So, if you’re Sharon, you have a decision that could change your life, but you know someone you love may be hurt by it. Would you tell them while you’re still uncertain or wait until you’ve made the decision yourself? I’d really like to hear you in the comments. And you can also pitch the next story yourself.
What kind of situation would you like to hear on Soul Stirring Stories? Tell me what kind of story you’d genuinely stop to listen to next. You can even leave the opening situation in the comments and let me see where it could go. I read the ideas and one of them may inspire an upcoming episode. And one final precaution, the next time someone says, “You must be Tony,” maybe ask for a last