Consistently Inconsistent

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
When love is all you can give, keep giving.

Submitted: October 05, 2016

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Submitted: October 05, 2016



Consistently Inconsistent

It was an afternoon to really remember.  Marcel, with his fingers interlocked and placed behind his head, leaned back in his office chair to take a brief glance at his life.  With a new job on the horizon he furiously began imagining the things he would say to his new co-workers, what his desk would look like, and how he would network at conferences. 

“Hello, I’m Marcel…here is my business card.”

“Yeah…right in the corner. I could put that picture here, place my pens and writing utensils here, and have a resource corner there.”

He had never seen his new office, but he knew how he wanted to manage his space.  For in Marcel’s life, he felt that there were few things he could control, but his desk space was one of them. 

Suddenly, his desk began to vibrate.  He quickly eased himself forward in his chair to see what was causing the disturbance—his phone.  The little red bubble to notify him of a text message popped up and before he read the message, he threw his phone to the ground.  It was her.  All it took was the site of her name to make his stomach uneasy.  What did she want? What did he do?  What did he forget to do? Was she finally ready to take the next step? She’s always in and out of his life…consistently inconsistent.  A million thoughts ran through his mind as he tried to piece together what the message was going to say, before even reading it.

Every time he saw anything to do with her his heart literally would skip a beat.  To be clear, the term literally means it actually happens and in Marcel’s case, this was pure fact.  All it took was a picture of her popping up as he scrolled through his social feed, notification of a text, call, or email from her, or even just seeing her name printed in some obscure place; his heart literally would skip a beat.  This is a condition no physician could ever diagnose, but simply put, it was love. Was love.  Is love. Love. 

He finally mustered up the courage to unlock his phone and view the message.  He read each word more carefully than the fine print of a scratch ticket when you’re making sure you’ve actually won.  She wanted to come see him.  But why? Marcel began another everlasting conversation with himself.

“Do I want her to come over?”

“Of course I do! I haven’t seen her in weeks.”

“But do you want to hear what she has to say?”

“Maybe she has changed her mind.  Maybe she is ready.”

“Probably not. She always says one thing but acts another.”

“But she has always been honest and acknowledges her faults; I love that about her.”

“But if she actually loved me back, she would take my hand and walk together.”

Eventually Marcel texted her back and told her she could come over.  Marcel waited anxiously as he waited for her to come to the door.  He left the door unlocked because he did not want to have to get up and greet her.  He wanted to save every ounce of energy he had in his body so that he could live in this moment as long as possible and radiate as much love towards her as he could.  He knew the end was near.  The end was near but there was also never really a beginning.

The melodic thud at the door pushed Marcel further back into his chair and his heart stopped for just a moment.  He sat there, frozen, unsure of his next move. The pressure in his chest felt like a the weight of a cinderblock being crushed by a martial aritst at an international competition.

“It’s unlocked!” he screamed.

“Couldn’t come to the door for me?” she asked as she looked at him intensely.

“Sorry, I am in the middle of something and I could not come to a pause at this moment” he replied.

“Well, I canceled some appointments at work because I was thinking about you.  I wanted to see you…to talk to you” she said, gently.

“Okay, let’s talk.  I can do two things at once.” Marcel said arrogantly.

She gave Marcel a look of disgust and started to walk towards the door.

“Where are you going? Let’s talk” Marcel clamored.

“Can I kiss you?” She replied.

Again, Marcel’s heart took a deep pause like an artist admiring his finished masterpiece.  Marcel didn’t need to reply.  He knew he wanted to kiss her, even though it was probably the wrong thing to do and with all logical thinking thrown out, Marcel told her, “Yes…yes you can.”

She made her way over to his office chair and tried to be as sensual as possible by straddling him on the chair.  She was about as graceful as a newborn giraffe, trying to sit on Marcel’s lap while wrapping her legs around the chair.  They both let out a laugh.  It was at this moment Marcel had some of his most wonderful thoughts about her.  How she made him laugh.  How he was able to be himself around her.  How she could laugh at herself. How he wanted to share his day with her, everyday.  How a moment of sensuality could be interrupted by clumsiness, but still mean the world to him.  These are the moments that are unable to be recreated and forever cherished. 

Marcel made it easier for her as he got up, moved her to the bed and straddled her as he showered her with his love.  His lips were like magnets all over her face and neck–inseparable. He used every ounce of energy in his body to become one with her as he pressed his lips against the swell of her cheeks and plains of her forehead.  As he pulled back he looked deeply into her eyes, as if he knew it would be his last gaze and asked her, “You know I love you, right?” to which she replied, “Yes.”

“Good. As long as she knows.” He thought to himself.

“You’re so good to me, I don’t deserve you.  I’m not even sure if we can ever be together.  I am a terrible person.”

Marcel knew this was coming.  He felt it from the moment he saw her name come across his screen just mere moments ago.  For he saw her as perfect, so he loved her and she saw herself as imperfect, so he loved her even more. 

Marcel expressed his love and acknowledged all of her concerns as to why she had uncertainties about a deep relationship with each other.

“I understand you’re worried.  You have every reason to feel the way you feel because of your past. I’m not scared.  I want you, all of you.  Loving you means loving every imperfections, too. I could dream up the most perfect girl in the world and she still wouldn’t even come close to you.  You have given me reason to love when I thought I would and could never love again.  You gave me life and hope when I thought I would walk forever alone in this cold world.  You know we are perfect for each other, I know you do.  I can see it when you look back at me, like I am the only person left on this planet.  And we are perfect for each other, but not in the sense that we have all things in common, but because every time we are together it feels like the first time.  Every time we kiss it’s like it’s happening again for the first time.”

“Do you remember the first time I kissed you?” Marcel asked.

“Yes…” she replied.

“Do you still get the same feeling now as you did then?” Marcel questioned.

“I do” she nervously muttered.

They had another kiss and then another and then another until she had to leave.  As their lips locked for the final time, Marcel knew this was probably the end.  She left him with an empty kiss and many “I’m sorrys” and began to make her way down the driveway and out of Marcel’s life.

As Marcel watched her leave, he took in a large breath and caught the scent of her on his clothes and he felt comforted.  She smelled like angels ought to smell.  Slowly, the lingering perfume faded and reality began to set back in.  For when she was around it always seemed like time had stopped or that he was in some alternate reality where any and everything is possible.  The once graceful afternoon now seemed darker—grayer. And everything around him seemed inadequate and upsetting.

Marcel began to wonder why he did that to himself.  Why and how he put himself in a situation to be hurt once again.  He knew she would never commit, but always continued to hold on to hope because he loved her. 

“Love conquers all.  No matter what, I must continue to love her.” He said to himself out loud.

And that’s exactly what he did.  He loved her more and more everyday even if she never reciprocates the feelings.  He is not waiting, wishing, or standing by idly, but simply loving her more and more each day, just hoping she will always know that.  Hoping she never feels alone in this world because someone loves her more than anybody ever could. Hoping that when she is feeling imperfect that someone is loves her even more; loving all of her.  


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