Well, here it is, one o’clock in the morning. I think two o’clock is the darkest time of the night for me. But that’s neither here nor there. The bottom line is, I’m up and writing and that means, I’m feeling which then leads most often to, having a moment.
I will spare you the two o’clock AM depths of the moment and instead just let you know that I’m appreciative and thankful for this space, for the opportunity to share my writing with you. It is the realization of a dream to know that my words are finally being read by some one other than myself.
Here’s a snippet of what I’ve been working on tonight. Wishing more and more often that one day…
He recognizes the rambling way she gets to the point. He is anxious, but willing to follow the twisting path to its final destination. There are few more random sentences to catch him up on her life since last he saw her. News that her parents have finally stopped trying to get her to move in with them; her therapist thinks she’s made excellent progress and sessions are now down to just once a week. She’s obtained her sharp shooter’s certification and is now thinking about taking up a sword fighting class. He listens, happy to see her, to hear her voice. When she reaches out with her left hand, placing it’s warmth against his chest, over his heart, he sees the ring still encompassing her finger. He knows she’s arrived at the real reason they’re on the balcony.
“I don’t need you Mike.” He stops breathing again. “I don’t need you to be my protector, my provider. I don’t need you to do things around the house, to pay my bills or fix my cars. “He is heartbroken, but her hand keeps him from moving.
“Then where does that leave things?” He’s able to breathe that question to life.
“I’m getting to that.” He tries to brace himself for the second blow.
“I don’t need you. But…”Now it’s her turn to stop breathing for a minute. A brief sigh, her hand on his chest shakes with the barest of tremors. He feels her push it more solidly against his chest, perhaps a last-minute attempt at pushing him away. The heat radiates through the material of the shirt, flowing from nerve ending to nerve ending until his whole body seems to heat up a bit. He’s not leaving this time. She shakes her head, rethinking what she’s trying to say.
“I am a strong woman, emotionally. If I wasn’t, then my life these past ten years would have left me broken, maybe even locked up in a mental ward or at the very least, cowering in my parent’s house, afraid to leave. I don’t need a man to come along and fix me or make me whole, because I am whole. A little bruised, a little battered but nothing a hot shower and a couple of Advil won’t fix.” He smiles through the few tears gathering on his bottom lashes. He’ll save them for after she’s walked away for good. Leaving his grandmother’s ring in his hand. She moves closer to him, her hand still on his chest to steady her resolve. She turns her head locking his gaze with hers.
“But no matter how many hot showers or Advil I take, I haven’t been able to get past one thing. And that is my WANT for you. I want you in my life. I want to fuss at you for doing all those things I don’t need you to do. I want to sleep better knowing there are two people in the house locked and loaded; knowing that if I miss my shot, you’re there to take it. I want to get the chance to pretend to be weak but only if you’re there to be strong. I want to worry when you’re late coming home, or any time I hear sirens, or the phone rings late at night. I have given up trying to hide, or run from my want of you.”
A couple of the tears slip from his eyes. He silently thanks every deity he can think of. He covers her hand with his. His fingers, cold from the surety that she was going to say good-bye, warm quickly.
“That is, if you’ll have me, what with my stubbornness, and refusal to ask for help, and all.”
“I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
They embrace finally.
Thanks for letting me share. As always, I hope you’re enjoying what you read.