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talonkarrdeThere's a boy and girl — a man and a woman — you and me. And there's their first meeting, outside the library, with the sound of cars honking in the background. It's May, and there she is, sitting on a bench, late but finally present, waiting for him to come out of the library.
And there he is, inside, passing the time by reading the Sandman, hoping that she’s just delayed. He had spent half an hour outside, waiting for her, before coming in, and he's trying not to feel crushed that she's not there. Not because she stood him up — the possibility doesn't even occur to him — but because he knows how hard it was to arrange a day to meet, and he has no idea when the next one would be. And he's nervous, of course, because he loves her — like an idiot, he said this to her already — and he’s kicking himself and wondering if he’s scared her off.
He looks up at the clock — it's an hour past when they said they would meet — and decides that he’s going to take one last look around before heading home. When he comes out and makes that final sweep of the area, though, there she is, sitting on a bench, and she jumps up and goes to him as their eyes meet.
"Sorry," she starts, and he sarcastically pretends to be hurt, and all is behind them.
Then they talk, and the afternoon floats by on words and smiles, as they walk through her town, as she reads and he watches, as they talk about war and peace and politics and psychology and everything but each other. But the open secret is that everything that they say, really, is about each other.
When she leaves, he sits in his car, watching the sun go down, watching as the colors fade.
It is a week later when they have the first conversation that almost breaks them apart. It's because she told her parents the truth; ironically, something that he always believed she should do. He walks aimlessly down his street as she tells him they can't talk again, as she trots out a laundry list of reasons why they shouldn't have met, or talked, or anything, and how there's no hope for them. None of them really make sense to him, and he says this, but he knows that nothing will change tonight. He also knows, though, to be patient, that there are stronger forces than parents telling their children what they can't do, and he hopes.
It is a week after that when they finally start talking again, despite her parents’ wishes, and his world comes back together.
He tells her, one day, about the kids that they'd have, and how they would be bright and obnoxious, and possibly more than a little sarcastic. He tells her, offhand, that they'd change the world, and for once, he's absolutely serious. They talk about it sometimes, or at least he does, and she tries not to get too nervous about it. She cautions him about planning ahead so much, and he says that it isn't planning, it's just...something that comes to him, something that feels right.
Besides, he says, she'd be a great mother.
But it turns out to be better than that. She has access to the internet, and a computer, and they talk online, finding time for each other, and he gets used to seeing 'good morning' on his screen when he wakes up, and typing 'good night' to her when she goes to sleep.
They have their crises of faith, both of them, but they support each other, reassure one another, and they make it through, even when she thinks it can’t work or he thinks it’s impossible. They talk, and that's the important thing, because there’s nothing they can’t work out, even if it means giving up nights out or sleep. It’s a sacrifice gladly made, by both of them.
Then she has her computer stolen by someone, and it all goes to hell...until they work it out, as they always do.
He gets a phone that provides for international calls and starts his day with a call to the other side of the world; the first thing he hears is her 'good morning, starshine'. He hurries home from work to call her so that the last thing she hears before she goes to sleep is a 'sweet dreams, love'. They talk less frequently, but with more meaning.
And it works out for months, and even though it's not perfect, there is love, and there is the two of them, facing the future together, bridging the distance.
But there are some things they can’t overcome.
There are things that we can't work out, fundamental areas where we are different from one another. We love each other, but we each stand on solid ground and can not be taken away from where we are. Where we choose to plant our faith is not the same, and there is a fissure between us; we would lose ourselves if we crossed to the other side.
There is an ocean of emptiness between us, one I can not cross and one I do not know how to bridge.
And there he is, inside, passing the time by reading the Sandman, hoping that she’s just delayed. He had spent half an hour outside, waiting for her, before coming in, and he's trying not to feel crushed that she's not there. Not because she stood him up — the possibility doesn't even occur to him — but because he knows how hard it was to arrange a day to meet, and he has no idea when the next one would be. And he's nervous, of course, because he loves her — like an idiot, he said this to her already — and he’s kicking himself and wondering if he’s scared her off.
He looks up at the clock — it's an hour past when they said they would meet — and decides that he’s going to take one last look around before heading home. When he comes out and makes that final sweep of the area, though, there she is, sitting on a bench, and she jumps up and goes to him as their eyes meet.
"Sorry," she starts, and he sarcastically pretends to be hurt, and all is behind them.
Then they talk, and the afternoon floats by on words and smiles, as they walk through her town, as she reads and he watches, as they talk about war and peace and politics and psychology and everything but each other. But the open secret is that everything that they say, really, is about each other.
When she leaves, he sits in his car, watching the sun go down, watching as the colors fade.
-
It is a week later when they have the first conversation that almost breaks them apart. It's because she told her parents the truth; ironically, something that he always believed she should do. He walks aimlessly down his street as she tells him they can't talk again, as she trots out a laundry list of reasons why they shouldn't have met, or talked, or anything, and how there's no hope for them. None of them really make sense to him, and he says this, but he knows that nothing will change tonight. He also knows, though, to be patient, that there are stronger forces than parents telling their children what they can't do, and he hopes.
It is a week after that when they finally start talking again, despite her parents’ wishes, and his world comes back together.
He tells her, one day, about the kids that they'd have, and how they would be bright and obnoxious, and possibly more than a little sarcastic. He tells her, offhand, that they'd change the world, and for once, he's absolutely serious. They talk about it sometimes, or at least he does, and she tries not to get too nervous about it. She cautions him about planning ahead so much, and he says that it isn't planning, it's just...something that comes to him, something that feels right.
Besides, he says, she'd be a great mother.
-
And then she leaves, to go across the ocean for a year. She might not have internet, and calling is expensive, and so their relationship becomes 'come what may', with a promise of a phone call when she comes back.But it turns out to be better than that. She has access to the internet, and a computer, and they talk online, finding time for each other, and he gets used to seeing 'good morning' on his screen when he wakes up, and typing 'good night' to her when she goes to sleep.
They have their crises of faith, both of them, but they support each other, reassure one another, and they make it through, even when she thinks it can’t work or he thinks it’s impossible. They talk, and that's the important thing, because there’s nothing they can’t work out, even if it means giving up nights out or sleep. It’s a sacrifice gladly made, by both of them.
Then she has her computer stolen by someone, and it all goes to hell...until they work it out, as they always do.
He gets a phone that provides for international calls and starts his day with a call to the other side of the world; the first thing he hears is her 'good morning, starshine'. He hurries home from work to call her so that the last thing she hears before she goes to sleep is a 'sweet dreams, love'. They talk less frequently, but with more meaning.
And it works out for months, and even though it's not perfect, there is love, and there is the two of them, facing the future together, bridging the distance.
-
But there are some things they can’t overcome.
-
There are things that we can't work out, fundamental areas where we are different from one another. We love each other, but we each stand on solid ground and can not be taken away from where we are. Where we choose to plant our faith is not the same, and there is a fissure between us; we would lose ourselves if we crossed to the other side.
There is an ocean of emptiness between us, one I can not cross and one I do not know how to bridge.
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no subject
Date: 2011-02-19 11:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-20 01:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-20 02:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-20 06:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-20 02:44 pm (UTC)good luck with it.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-20 09:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-21 01:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-21 01:52 am (UTC)Well I hope you find happiness, whatever that may be. I hope things work out just the way they should for both of you. Sometimes, it's hard to see what exactly is meant to be, usually it's easier in hindsight....so just do what works best for you and stay strong.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-21 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-21 04:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-21 03:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-21 03:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-21 04:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-21 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-21 09:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-21 10:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-22 03:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-22 08:28 am (UTC)heart breaking end.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-22 02:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-22 03:19 pm (UTC)You wrote this wonderfully, with so much feeling and no romantic hyperbole.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-22 07:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-22 10:31 pm (UTC)Beautifully written. Unexpected to read nonfiction from you, but you are just as good at it.
At least you're trying...
Date: 2011-02-22 10:51 pm (UTC)But I never told her.
So she married someone else.
At their wedding, I shook his hand, and called him the luckiest man I knew.
Why are my eyes wet?
Re: At least you're trying...
Date: 2011-02-24 09:57 pm (UTC)::hugs::
Perhaps we all have "might have beens.."
no subject
Date: 2011-02-23 12:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-02-24 09:56 pm (UTC)I'm so sorry. Seriously. It...I know these feelings.
We are strangers but if I may, ::hugs::
I hope somehow your story ends a lot differently than mine.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-25 03:19 pm (UTC)thank you