Talk

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short, light dialogue about a past relationship.

Submitted: April 14, 2017

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Submitted: April 14, 2017

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“So, here we are.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“After all that’s happened, it’s the two of us again.”

 

“I never thought it would be like this.”

 

“Me neither. But it’s nice, in a way. Standing with you here. It has a certain poetic quality.”

 

“How so?”

 

“You know. Two old friends, watching the end of the day. Waves fading into the sand behind us, and the wood of this fence is old and quite lovely.”

 

“I’m not your friend. I never was.”

 

“I know. You were always much more.”

 

“I was sometimes much less.”

 

“No. You were never anything less.”

 

“I felt like you didn’t care at all. You ignored me for years.”

 

“I thought you hated me. I knew you wouldn’t trust me. You still don’t.”

 

“You’re right, I don’t. But I never hated you.”

 

“I don’t blame you. I shouldn’t be trusted. But I’m sorry I hurt you.”

 

“Are you really sorry?”

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

“You always said experiences were more important than personal feelings.”

 

“I’m beginning to doubt that.”

 

“Don’t. That’s what you are all about. You hurt me, you really did, but you are something else. If you needed to hurt me to be who you are, then I guess it’s what you had to do.”

 

“If I could go through it all again, I’d choose you over who I am now.”

 

“Then why did you do it in the first place? Why did you treat me the way you did? Why did you leave me?”

 

“Ever been to a beautiful place?”

 

“A beautiful place?”

 

“Yes. Like the pyramids. Do you think the pyramids are beautiful?”

 

“Of course. Everyone thinks the pyramids are beautiful.”

 

“That’s because they are. They are grand and majestic, and very, very old. They are weathered and beaten, but still, they stand. Anyone who isn’t moved by pyramids must be very, very rotten inside.”

 

“What does it have to do with anything?”

 

“Have you ever been inside a pyramid?”

 

“No.”

 

“Me neither. But I imagine it’s dark and damp, full of dirt and stupid tunnels.”

 

“And?”

 

“And that’s how it is with people. Sometimes you have to stand away to see how beautiful something is.”

 

“Was it really that bad when we were together?”

 

“No. You were beautiful from up close too. It was beautiful walking home with you. It was beautiful sitting around. I still remember every time we sat in the kitchen and smoked cigarettes. I remember how passionately you talked of albums, how you listened with wide and smiling eyes. You were all new and lovely, and so familiar and sad. I remember all the moments that made me think you were just like me, and all the moments when you were strange and intriguing.”

 

“Come now, don’t give that sad puppy look. You’re sweet, you know. You were always so sweet, that’s why I fell for you.”

 

“I never understood how beautiful you actually were until I stood far away. How beautiful you actually are.”

 

“It’s difficult being around you.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because when you start talking, I forget all the bad things about you and remember all the good ones. It’s so easy to repeat past mistakes around you.”

 

“You think we were a mistake?”

 

“I thought about that one a lot, actually. If love is about happiness, I thought, then there are simpler, safer ways to be happy. But no, love is never about happiness. If love is about trust, I trusted you for a long time, even when you failed it again and again, I still trusted you when you left, and I know you never trusted me. Never even gave me a chance. But no, love is never about trust. If love is about caring, I know you cared about me a lot, but you still hurt me, and I cared about you more than anything, but it was never enough.”

 

“We are a failure, then?”

 

“I don’t know, because love is never about caring.”

 

“What is it about?”

 

“I don’t know that either. But I remember good things too. If love is about understanding, every sentence out of your mouth resonated with what I thought. It was like we wore the same kind of glasses all the time, the same shade, the same frame, our world was the same, and different from everyone else. I know you understood me, no one will ever know me like you do, and I hope I understood you too. Is love about understanding? If love is about feelings, I felt many things about you for a very long time. I loved how you laughed, and I loved how you held me when we slept. I loved how you talked of sadness as an old friend, and the cheery yet melancholic air you carried around everywhere you went. I felt so strongly about you.  I was insanely embarrassed every time I didn’t know something, I felt furious every time you lightly made fun of me, if anyone ever tried to talk behind your back, my face went red with rage and I showed them their place. And when you left me, I don’t even have the words to describe it. I could say I felt betrayed, but betrayal implies pledging, a king cannot betray a squire. I could say I felt grief, but you were very much alive and very much happy in someone else’s arms. I could say I felt sad, of course. But sad is an easy word, one you wrap around yourself like a cape and carry everywhere you go. But I felt very strongly when you left, for a very long time. Is love about feelings?”

 

“I…”

 

“If love is about sharing, that’s one thing we were good at. It’s the crown of our relationship, the cream of the crop, the climax, all the good things jammed up together. Whether it’s a five-minute chat or a movie or a book, a good song or the rain or a blocked road, anything we shared was intensely original and valuable. Your point of view on life, on everything, the way you look at the world, it makes everything much more interesting. Sharing a breakfast with you meant learning five new things about olives, changing my diet, and feeling sad about chickens. It might seem stupid to many, but I cherished it. I cherish every little thing you taught me, and I hope I was able to teach you some things too.”

 

“You did. Many things. You understood me too. Better than anyone.”

 

“Is love about sharing?”

 

“Love is about experiences.”

 

“Was I a good experience, then?”

 

“You were the best thing that happened to me. All the good bits and bad bits.”

 

“And so, here we are.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It is kind of poetic, I have to admit.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It could’ve been better.”

 

“It could’ve been perfect.”

 

“But then it wouldn’t be us.”

 

“We wouldn’t be standing here.”

 

“It wouldn’t be beautiful.”

 

“It wouldn’t be beautiful.”


© Copyright 2017 Barbaros. All rights reserved.

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