The Unnamed Moment

The day was old and the season was growing cold. She sat by herself on the back steps staring and thinking. Tomorrow was in her mind as it is always in her mind. Tomorrow was the day all girls dream about, at least that’s what they always say. Every girl wants to get married to that perfect man who will support and protect them and have children with them. It was the American dream; 2.5 kids and a house with a white picket fence. But, part of her questioned this dream. Was it really hers to hold onto or was it a life style conditioned into her mind to a point where she actually believed.

She did love Henry, of course, but was he really the love of her life? She smiled sadly, for her mind told her the answer right away. No, no, he was not the love of her life. In fact, the love of her life was coming towards her across the yard with his head bent down. She took notice of his actions, for she knew he only bent is head down when he was sad or the sun was in his eyes and the sun was not in his eyes. Too little, too late was all she could think of as she watched him draw closer to her body.

“Hello,” he said simply, a touch of sadness hidden in his smile.

“Hello,” she responded in such a way that it was the most intimate of gestures.

“I need to talk to you,” he took of his base ball cap and looked at it as if it was going to make the situation less difficult.

“Of course,” she sighed watching his figure move with that grace she had always admired.
He sat down beside her, but not too close. Oh no, he couldn’t sit too close.

“So, you’re getting married tomorrow,” he said trying to sound casual.
“Seems to be that way,” she responded, her voice bored.
“You nervous?”
“No, no, I’m not.”
“I would be.”
“There is no reason to be, the only thing changing is my name… Me and Henry already live together… Now… now… it’s just more official.”

“I see,” he looked down at the ground as he responded.

She watched him in the silence and looked up towards the sky. The sun was fading, twilight was approaching and she could feel the pain within her chest.

How can I tell you what I need to when I know it’s wrong, she thought to herself. It’s wrong for me to care about you just as it is wrong for me to marry someone that isn’t you. She threw these thoughts out into the darkness, wishing them to be forgotten.

“I just wanted to tell you,” he paused and played uncomfortably with his hat, “that I love you. I love you more than anything in the world.”

Her eyes widened, she hadn’t expected him to come out and say it. After all these years of hiding it in the dark he brought it out underneath a starry sky.

She found herself angry with him and even though she knew he spoke the truth, she responded with bitterness, “You do not love me.”

He was shocked but said calmly and simply, “Yes, yes I do. You are my heart.
You give life to me everyday…”

She sighed, “That’s nice of you to say, but what about your wife? Your children? You love them too and I will not be the one to come between that…”

“So, you feel the same?” His voice hopeful and his mind ignoring her accusations.

She did not answer him. She remained silent and looked down at the steps. They were filled with imperfections, little aged cracks in the wood, they’d be rotting soon. Everything rots with time. Time… how cruel it can be. When you think there’s too much of it, suddenly there isn’t enough and you’re rotting like a log on the forest floor. Other creatures come and use you for a home. A place to live. You find your home in others, it was once said. Would she find her home in Henry?

“I do love you,” she whispered, “but can’t you see… this cannot work out. This cannot be.”
He looked up towards the stars, “It could if we wanted it to.”

He was always like that, thinking of ways to work things out, yet always the push over. Anything she wanted, he’d most likely do. But she didn’t use him like that… his wife did… but she’d never use him like that. She’d take his nice natured heart and hold onto it as if the world depended upon her loving him, upon her holding him.

“To death do us part,” she whispered to her feet.

“No,” he corrected her, “in death we shall finally be together…”

“I don’t know much about death,” she answered, “but I do know much about love.
This is what I know… you love your wife, maybe not as much as you love me, but you do love her. You love your children more than anything in the world and I cannot separate you from those you love. It’d be a purely selfish act and I could not live with myself for doing it.”

“Always so practical, except when it comes to your own heart,” he responded and then added, “So, you’ll go on with it? You’ll marry Henry?”

“Of course,” she answered sadly and added unconvincingly, “I love him.”

“Of course, you do what you feel is right,” then he laid a hand upon her shoulder, “I’ll wait for you forever to make up your mind and I’ll love you stronger ever day I breath and ever day I die.”
“I die everyday,” she responded, “seeing you so happy with your family. I need my own… not someone else’s.”

His eyes grew wide in awareness at this statement and he sighed, “I’ll be going now, good luck tomorrow.”

Those last three words he spoke hit her square in the chest. Good luck tomorrow… it hurt more than anything could have hurt… tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. It’ll come and it’ll pass quickly… the coming and going of a dream. Was this real. She watched the silhouette of the one she held most dear walk away into the darkness of the night as a tear slowly slid down her cheek.