Every Other Day: A Short Story

It all began with Tib - as things often did. And like all good stories, the conflict came with a young man. His boyishly handsome physique - and perhaps, his heart for the mission field - made Carter Reichart the near perfect recipient of my friend's affections. There was only one flaw Carter possessed; he had a history. He had dated most of the girls in our youth group - those he hadn't, probably because they had "kissed dating goodbye." This fault was nearly overcome by his persistent pursuit of Tib, but one ill-judged decision made his fate nearly final.

Tacy's fancy was proven to focus on a less attainable target; the youth group's philanthropist. The problem was that tender-hearted Jacob had no apparent interest in my love-sick companion. When Owen came knocking - however lightly and undecidedly - a slightly disgruntled Tacy warmed to the idea of him more readily, perhaps in part for the pleasure of finally being acknowledged. Owen seemed, at least at first, to be a very viable option, his only fault being that he was the best friend of Betsy's ex, and said the words "covenant" and "penal" in great excess. However, his subsequent disinterest in missions and also somewhat shady past made him an object of suspicion by both Tib and Betsy.


Betsy, became an object of affection on a trip to a museum over holiday. Out of the three boys who went on this trip, she already liked two of them, yet neither of them were the gentleman whose interest she was (unbeknownst to herself) currently piquing. It was rather ironic, really. In her efforts to impress Braden, her more "intellectual" infatuee, Betsy conversed a great deal on the particulars of theology, church practice, and her "well-cultivated" Christian-college-student opinions on both. To Ricky, the pastoral studies major driving the car, Betsy's conversation quickly made her a contender for mistress of his future parsonage. When he asked Betsy out a month later, she said yes, too thrilled to even think of replying otherwise. Two days later she was positive that, despite his holy calling, she would never be meeting Ricky in holy matrimony. And yet, expressing such sentiments seemed, well, unholy.

And thus the three friends found themselves all in the same predicament when summer came. There were boys that liked them, but none of them were suitable enough to be liked in return. While the three young women sorted through their pseudo-infatuations and gave decidedly good advice to the other two (that could easily apply to themselves), a sort of pattern emerged. In an effort to break from, but not alienate, their unfortunate would-be lovers, the girls began to do things "every other day."

Tacy only replied to tweets every other day. Betsy only replied to texts every other day. Tib only replied to Facebook messages every other day. It worked. By summer's end, all three boys had moved on to new young ladies. The three friends were left to wipe their brows in relief, pine indignantly over their relational misfortunes, and contemplate the strange but comical woes of being single young women doing things every other day.
     
(This story was originally written as a nonfiction piece for a writing class.)