a room of her own by typicalquirk

15 Feb

Amy could not help but wonder if she was making a mistake. All of her life she had imagined this day. She had dreamed as a child about the white dress, the cake, and of course the chocolate brown and light blue wedding colours, and of course having the wedding on Valentine’s Day.

Phil was a great guy. Handsome, nice teeth, a financial analyst. Steady. Stable. Everything she thought she wanted. They had been together for eight years.

Last year while working at the government as a receptionist, Amy decided to take a night class to try to finish her English degree she had started in the late 90s. She was nervous to go back.

The only night class that piqued her interest was a feminist literature class. The first essay that she read was Virginia Woolf’s “A Room of One’s Own.” She drank it up like it was water. It struck her. And yet at the end of the semester, she put the book that contained this essay back on the bookshelf that she shared with Phil and didn’t think about it again.

Until now. Now she couldn’t get the damn essay out of her head. It was teasing her. She shared a one bedroom condo in downtown Toronto with Phil. The location was amazing, the condo was adequate, and the neighbours kept out of her business. But she didn’t have a room of her own. Even her closet was shared with Phil. Her secrets were kept in a box behind the one pair of Jimmy Choo’s she bought herself when she got her bonus last year. Her cubicle at work was her own, but she was only allowed minimal personal effects.

She had thought she was happy, until she was sitting here in this room. This white room where many brides before her sat filled with hope. She didn’t feel hope. She felt her breathing quicken and her heart race. She pulled the notebook she always kept with her out of the bag she had brought with her to change. She ripped out a piece of paper and wrote a note:


I love you. This will seem cruel, but I really did not know today that this is not what I want. I don’t know what I want, but I will let you know when I figure it out.

All my love, Amy

Of course at this point she did not mean all her love, but that is how she signed every note for the last eight years. She needed to keep some of that love for herself. And she slipped out of her wedding dress, into her yoga pants, and out the door. She was going to find a room of her own.


3 Responses to “a room of her own by typicalquirk”

  1. ingridfnl February 15, 2010 at 12:11 pm #

    You’ve captured the contrast between expectation (dreaming of her wedding day) and that moment of reality so well — that feeling that you want something more. I wonder if she will find it in the room of her own?

  2. jadamthwaite February 15, 2010 at 2:35 pm #

    You’ve caught that wavering line between This Moment Now and what will be The Rest Of Your Life really well. I sympathise with Amy… we all need space. And I think that’s one of the hardest things to come to terms with in a relationship.

  3. phoenix.writing February 21, 2010 at 6:57 pm #

    I think Virginia Woolf would be proud. I hope that Amy can find that space (and sense of self) that she needs and wind up happy. I feel sorry for Phil, but I still think it be better to get it sorted now rather than have her realize how unhappy she is after they’re married.

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