Loss and Love

Loss and Love

A Story by Roger Denton

A Short Story


Jenna and I were not together. I wanted us to be, but we weren’t. She had made it clear, she didn’t feel for me the way I did for her, so now I was supposed to wait for the things to change. How stupid is that… It sounds as if we were children. We were, however, 23 years old; young, but not exactly kids.

I had a job back then. A was an assistant at the Chapel University. A professor’s assistant, that is. All I did was sitting in the classroom during professor Adler’s History lesson, and carry this to one place, or carry that to another place, and so on. I also did some secretary work for him, like making some phone calls, and other stuff like that. People thought I was kissing his a*s, but I wasn’t. I didn’t give a s**t about him, and I still don’t, nor do I about my position in the University. In fact, I hate the University. I left that place later on, when my father died.

I still remember that night in the hospital. Me and Jenna were waiting in the corridor for the doctor to inform us on my father’s condition. Then Doctor Hill came to see us, and he said that my father didn’t have too long.

“How long is that?” I asked him.

“I don’t know… a few days, maybe. His cancer, you see…”

Yes. I knew; his cancer. It was too late for him, and now all that was left, was for us to expect him to pass away.

We walked out of the hospital, to the courtyard, and walked towards the pavilion. It was one of those times I tend to realize how much it matters to be alive. It was as if my father’s death was linked to me, and my will to live, or rather, to die.

We sat on the bench, under the pavilion. Jenna sat next to me, and almost hugged me.

“I rarely feel you like that,” I told her. “It’s as if you’re trying to comfort me.”

She laughed.

“But I am,” she said. “What do you think I’m here for, silly?”

I shrugged. “Don’t really know. At times,” I said, “I wonder.” She didn’t say anything. I went on. “He’s dying, and nothing’s going to change that. I knew this time would come, but it’s harder than I thought.”

“All will pass,” she said. “There will be a time, when you’ll feel better again. Just be patient, and be strong.”

“What about us?” I asked her. “What are we going to do?”

“What do you mean? I don’t know,” she said.

“You still don’t know.”

She frowned. It was a moment when I thought that I was lying to myself about my relationship with her. I had hopes… More like great expectations, I’d say today… Who was I kidding?

Later that night, even though it was too early, my father passed away. We buried him the next day, next to my mother. Jenna was there too, and she stood by me. After the funeral, we walked home, and I tried to hold her hand, silently begging her to let me love her. She let me hold it, but her touch was cold. She didn’t want it, and she didn’t want my love. She didn’t need it. And so she told me later on. Well… not exactly using these words, but that was what she meant. It wasn’t really a rejection, but mostly, a nicely said ‘no’.

She left after that, and I tried to understand how love and loss can feel the same sometimes. Was it only loss that I felt, both for Jenna and my father, or just love? I somehow hoped that love would replace loss, but this didn’t happen. That day, I lost them both.

It took me time to find myself and start over. I had to leave Chapel, I had to travel, and I had to work, so that I could dedicate myself to something creative. Maybe someday I’ll go back, but until then, life goes on in a different direction, towards freedom.

And for that, I am happy.

© 2012 Roger Denton

My Review

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Very nice. The sad story of a double loss, a double love. You combined the two so well.
Your very first line should be "Jenna and I," not "Jenna and me."

Posted 8 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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Added on February 28, 2012
Last Updated on February 28, 2012
Tags: loss, love, chapel, university, Jenna, professor, cancer


Roger Denton
Roger Denton


I have been writing since the age of 10. 12 years have passed since then. I am still writing, in English, not in Greek, which is my first language. Therefore, I am trying to improve my English. There .. more..