The Conversation

A man and woman end their romance.

 

 "Did you hear me?" I said. She was looking at me as if I had said something so alien it must have been uttered in Greek.

  "That's impossible," she said.

  "Why? That's just how I feel," I replied.

  "You don’t know me Richard," she said. That last statement came out with such utter finality that I realized no matter what I said or how I put it, even how earnestly I came off, it wouldn't matter. That must have shown on my face because she said,

 "I'm sorry, this is my fault."

  "In no way is it your fault Lisa. I don't know why I should have expected you to feel the same," I nearly whispered.

 
 Inside I was angry not only at myself but at her as well, for which I had no right. It was a natural reaction though; I bared my innermost feelings to this person. Why the hell don't they accept that and reciprocate? But being as we are, it is always a risky proposition attempting to forge a connection beyond the physical with another person. As I looked out the window, the extreme brightness of the day caused me to squint and seemed to cheerily mock the emotional exchange. Blearily, the sunlight still in my eyes, I turned back to her. Wishing I was somewhere else, as everyone does when you say something that charged and it falls on seeming callousness, I asked,

   “So what now?”

 

   The question was rhetorical and I didn't expect her to answer. She was smiling nervously and averting her eyes, fidgeting. "I just can't do this," she said finally. "You're a great guy and we have a great time together but we can't be anything more than this." Now she looked at me, and her eyes told me a different story. They showed regret that for whatever reason, she could not become involved. I stared at the ground, disappointed that the situation had become so bleak. Intriguingly, along with a sense of loss I had a sense of gratitude; for what I had imagined in my mind, although gratifyingly uncertain, was now obliterated; reality, harsh, had imposed itself. Uncertainty was far less desirable than actually knowing something after all, and there was a measure of comfort in that knowledge.

  I sighed deeply, releasing the gestation of all this and said, "I truly wish things could have turned out differently for us, but I'm grateful we met and I got to know you." She held my hand in her two then and said,

  "Would that this had been a different time in my life. I would have been happy with you." A few seconds of silence passed then she rose fast and said, "I have to go."

  Getting up slowly I murmured, "Don't feel bad-"

She hugged me before I could say anything else, very tightly, her body shaking slightly. I returned her embrace and for a moment I was somewhere else entirely; a place of endless warmth and no physical proportions. The smell of her hair and her collapsed form in my arms would haunt my dreams, both waking and sleeping, the rest of my life. A sudden kiss, a quick goodbye, an open door I gently closed to turn and face an empty, indifferent room.

Reviews

[fallflower]

I think it may be me, that I am slow. Or that I'm in a post-lunch half-coma at the moment. But I had to read this twice before it began to dawn on me what was happening. Finally I read the first paragraph for the third time and it all clicked. I'm not sure if that's your intention - for it to be unclear for a while until it clicks? Once it became clear, the writing is very good - but it's like appreciating the intricacies of a crossword puzzle after you've worked out the theme. Perhaps one way to solve this is to title it something like "Three Words".

[Alan B.]

It was my intention to start it like that, and I really appreciate that you took the time to fully get it. I was just experimenting with ways to start a piece, so hopefully it came off well. Thank you so much for reading.