Story for Contest
Writing prompt: Love gets him into more trouble than hate ever could.
“Twenty-Fifth Reunion in the Lakeside Clubhouse” the banner reads. Wow! Has it been that long since graduating High School? Pulling on the screen door it swings outward. Immediately I step through the time portal and warp back to the life of an eighteen year old full of ambition and an inner-drive to prove myself. Scanning the room I recognize a few faces wrinkled with age and bodies marking the lapse of years, bodies showing their equivalent to tree rings boasting of a life lived. Then I see her…my high school sweetheart. My heart skips a beat and then races causing my pulse to rise. Slowly I walk toward her thinking surely she will become mine once again. Such silliness considering the amount of time passed. Thoughts of yester-year and the time we spent, a togetherness as sweet as honey from the comb before my heart was ripped asunder by HIM! There he is walking from the kitchen, walking toward her as he did so many years ago. Diamonds and gold bands glisten as I catch the sparkle on their left hands. Pangs of hurt and betrayal twinge the very depths of my soul. What’s this? As I extend my hand in greeting I find myself a 43 year-old man feeling ashamed of the unresolved issues thrust to the surface of life. She nestles toward me, lingering longer than appropriate. Secret thoughts as I wonder if this is an admission of mistakes made. Her body language speaking volumes. Moving on to work the room socially brings a discovery of how much of a good time I am having reminiscing of times gone by never to recover ever again. Days and weeks pass thinking of how I was glad to have seen my former love.
“Hello,” I speak into the phone, answering on the first ring to an unrecognized number. “It’s me,” the soft and tender voice answers. Flashing back to the reunion and the final severing of the undealt issue brings a new twist to my life. There could only be one “It’s me!” “I need to see you, I’ll be in Centerville over the next few days.” My heart races as one who gets another chance at a missed opportunity. Making arrangements to meet for dinner, I hang up the phone immediately regretting the decision. The inner-monologue of the mind, the secret conscience I don’t want to listen to but do, asks the question I don’t want to hear, “Why am I doing this to myself? She’s married! I can’t recapture the young love of an immature teenager who doesn’t exist anymore.”
The appointed date and time arrive all too soon as we meet at the premier steakhouse in town. Awkwardness gives way to speaking of old times, with gentle brushing together of hands on the table, fleeting looks, and conversation making time seem altogether non-existent.
The elevator dings the seventh floor as we make deliberate our youthful intentions to culminate our amorous evening. Unintentional and innocent or simply picking up from what should have been ours in High School, the evening climaxes in a fairy tale of steamy romance. A rattle at the door. Keys and the sound of the twisting doorknob are unmistakable. HIM! Walking in as if he expected our adulterous rendezvous. Time suspended as slow-motion takes pre-eminence, the sound needing no description occurs. The color of crimson flowing down his shirt. HIM! Taking the bullet intended for me, I shrink back in horror for the actions never knowing I could take. Not once did I hate this man for interrupting and severing the youthful love affair of so many years ago. The reunion showed my still loving heart, the special place she continued to hold.
Flashing of lights, red and blue alternately. The fog and haziness of mental faculties stun to a partial paralysis of disbelief. Cold steel bracelets slipped upon my wrists carry me away from the one I love from so many years ago. Interrupted by THEM! I love you…!
“Twenty-Fifth Reunion in the Lakeside Clubhouse” the banner reads. Wow! Has it been that long since graduating High School? Pulling on the screen door it swings outward. Immediately I step through the time portal and warp back to the life of an eighteen year old full of ambition and an inner-drive to prove myself. Scanning the room I recognize a few faces wrinkled with age and bodies marking the lapse of years, bodies showing their equivalent to tree rings boasting of a life lived. Then I see her…my high school sweetheart. My heart skips a beat and then races causing my pulse to rise. Slowly I walk toward her thinking surely she will become mine once again. Such silliness considering the amount of time passed. Thoughts of yester-year and the time we spent, a togetherness as sweet as honey from the comb before my heart was ripped asunder by HIM! There he is walking from the kitchen, walking toward her as he did so many years ago. Diamonds and gold bands glisten as I catch the sparkle on their left hands. Pangs of hurt and betrayal twinge the very depths of my soul. What’s this? As I extend my hand in greeting I find myself a 43 year-old man feeling ashamed of the unresolved issues thrust to the surface of life. She nestles toward me, lingering longer than appropriate. Secret thoughts as I wonder if this is an admission of mistakes made. Her body language speaking volumes. Moving on to work the room socially brings a discovery of how much of a good time I am having reminiscing of times gone by never to recover ever again. Days and weeks pass thinking of how I was glad to have seen my former love.
“Hello,” I speak into the phone, answering on the first ring to an unrecognized number. “It’s me,” the soft and tender voice answers. Flashing back to the reunion and the final severing of the undealt issue brings a new twist to my life. There could only be one “It’s me!” “I need to see you, I’ll be in Centerville over the next few days.” My heart races as one who gets another chance at a missed opportunity. Making arrangements to meet for dinner, I hang up the phone immediately regretting the decision. The inner-monologue of the mind, the secret conscience I don’t want to listen to but do, asks the question I don’t want to hear, “Why am I doing this to myself? She’s married! I can’t recapture the young love of an immature teenager who doesn’t exist anymore.”
The appointed date and time arrive all too soon as we meet at the premier steakhouse in town. Awkwardness gives way to speaking of old times, with gentle brushing together of hands on the table, fleeting looks, and conversation making time seem altogether non-existent.
The elevator dings the seventh floor as we make deliberate our youthful intentions to culminate our amorous evening. Unintentional and innocent or simply picking up from what should have been ours in High School, the evening climaxes in a fairy tale of steamy romance. A rattle at the door. Keys and the sound of the twisting doorknob are unmistakable. HIM! Walking in as if he expected our adulterous rendezvous. Time suspended as slow-motion takes pre-eminence, the sound needing no description occurs. The color of crimson flowing down his shirt. HIM! Taking the bullet intended for me, I shrink back in horror for the actions never knowing I could take. Not once did I hate this man for interrupting and severing the youthful love affair of so many years ago. The reunion showed my still loving heart, the special place she continued to hold.
Flashing of lights, red and blue alternately. The fog and haziness of mental faculties stun to a partial paralysis of disbelief. Cold steel bracelets slipped upon my wrists carry me away from the one I love from so many years ago. Interrupted by THEM! I love you…!
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