Four-Letter Word

Weak: 2004

weak \wēk\ adj 1 : lacking strength or vigor : FEEBLE 2 : not able to sustain or resist much weight, pressure, or strain 3 : deficient in vigor of mind or character; also : resulting from or indicative of such deficiency <a ~ policy> <a ~ will> <weak-minded> 4 : not supported by truth or logic <a ~ argument> 5 : lacking skill or proficiency; also : indicative of a lack of skill or aptitude 6 : lacking vigor of expression or effect 7 : of less than usual strength <~ tea> 8 : not having or exerting authority <~ government>; also : INEFFECTIVE, IMPOTENT 9 : of, relating to, or constituting a verb or verb conjugation that forms the past tense and past participle by adding –ed or ­-d or –t — weakly adv

Merriam-Webster and Garfield Dictionary (1999)

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Richard. Dominic Richard Carreon Feliz.

Callie first met him at a photo shoot for a broadband internet device six years ago. It was her first ever project, and she wanted it to be perfect. The minute she laid her eyes on him, she immediately hated his guts and his arrogance; he found her and the way she was mad at him for he was five minutes late for his call time adorable and too endearing.

How did they start? How did everything start?

Party.

For Richard and Callie, parties hold significant importance in their relationship, just as the park holds significance for some couples because that's where they met.

It was the brand launch and Callie was finally able to breathe, to exhale. A couple of martinis in and she was already giddy, and then that phone call.

That life-changer of a phone call.

She had to step out because the party was already in full swing, the DJ spinning groovy and upbeat music that plainly epitome the brand's equity: young, vibrant, loose, confident. She wouldn't hear what Travis was saying.

I'm done, Callie. I'm sorry. That was Travis' text message to her a couple of minutes ago. Travis, the love of her life. Travis, the guy she would give up nearly everything for (three years together and despite Travis' pleas, she didn't get into bed with him). Travis, her best friend. Her love. Her life.

"What's wrong? What do you mean you're done?" she asked as soon as she got to Gypsy's veranda. Richard was there by the metal swing, finishing his cigarette, a habit he promised to kick out of his system. He was down to three sticks a day from a pack a day just a month from the day he started laying off it, and he personally thought that was some sort of progress.

He turned towards the direction of the stressed voice, recognizing it as Callie's. He watched her as she started to pace, panicking. "Trav—"

"We're over, Callie. I can't do this anymore with you," Travis said, and Callie ran her hand over her still pixie cut hair.

"Travis, please don't do this. My hell months are over. We can—"

"No, Callie," Travis said, his voice firm and solid, as if saying there is no more backing out. "We can't. I can't. I'm sorry. I will drop off your things tonight."

Before Callie could plead even more or ask for any explanation other than the shitty can't-do-this-anymore one, Travis ended the call. She tried to call again but Travis had turned off his phone, obviously not wanting to talk to her any further.

"Shit. Shit!" Callie shouted. She did this crazy thing that you only see in movies—throwing her cellphone into the unknown, and it sailed in the air, narrowly hitting Richard on the head. It landed with a clang on the metal swing, the back cover, battery, and the SIM card flying out of the apparatus. For a split second, Richard wondered if that would still function.