A Porcelain Cat

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic


A middle-aged man rummaging through his junk in the garage finds a porcelain cat he stored there many years ago. The cat reminds him of a long lost love and he wishes he could see her again. Will
he indeed see her again and what are the memories he has of her, that he treasures so much. The story will tell.

Submitted: November 22, 2017

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Submitted: November 22, 2017

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He was emptying out the garage and found a porcelain cat in a plastic bag that he had left there many years ago. And he remembered buying it from a charity shop with his ex-girlfriend. As well, he remembered that moment on the sofa, in a house he would never see again, when they had discussed marriage. Yet he could still picture the room they were in when they had discussed it, but he had said he didn't want to marry for some reason that now he might regret. The porcelain cat reminded him of a story that he hadn't ever told anyone. The story was about how he had found love a few years ago but lost it. He sat down at his computer word processor and typed it out. This is it.

They were watching TV in her house but she switched it off, as they had been viewing the TV for a time, the evening was getting late and the TV becoming a bit of a bore. But it was not yet time for bed and so they could talk. She said that she had a special surprise in store.

"What?" he said excitedly and impatiently.

"Never mind, we can nuzzle on the sofa for a bit more."

"Did you like the TV?"

"I mean! Do you ever want to marry me? I don't know! How long have we been dating?"

He told her that it was a few years.

Then he said, "I don't really want to. I like you and all but I sometimes feel I don't know anything about you."

She stiffened.

"What?"

"We watch TV all right. But we never seem to talk about ourselves."

"I've told you everything."

"But I don't know what it means."

"What is there to know?"

"There is nothing I need to know, for there is nothing I need to know other than I love you and I love being with you in this house with its old furnishings and antiques. I feel privileged to see another world…"

"What are you talking about…?"

But then she said nothing more when it would only make it worse.

She cried and he did not know how to comfort her. Even a hand on her shoulder did not seem right.

She would go, as he knew, to look at charity shops as they had ornaments and bits and pieces that she could not get anywhere else. Also, she said that you could not get the atmosphere anywhere else.

He had gone with her once and they went to the shelves for porcelain and glass and looked at some stuff. On a whim, he bought something himself from the shop. It was a porcelain cat. He had it in his flat for a while, but then he put it in the garage.

They saw each other some more until she told him that she had met someone else. Now, she might just be a memory, just a memory and as well, his love for her and her love for him become just a memory. He began texting her to tell her his news. But she did not reply and so he sent more texts. Her phone was usually on the answer phone or he got no answer, but then she sent a text asking to meet him. As well, she asked him to bring some money and said she wanted to see him right away.

Taking some cash from a drawer, he left his house as dusk was coming down from the cool blue sky of the early November evening and went down the road to meet her. When he saw her, their conversation was short and did not have its old spark. Also, he was between girlfriends as he had personal problems and it felt a strain now they spoke. She asked for the money she had mentioned and then excused herself once he gave it to her. Later he felt very lonely and wanted to see her again, but he got no answers to his texts.

It was as if texting was a form of therapy to say what he thought to another person. But after so many unanswered texts, he had only a small hope that she had even been getting his messages. It was as if texting could make him feel better. Emotional turmoil ran wild through his head although he didn't like his emotions so fraught. Really, he dearly wanted to get back together again with her. He texted her once again and asked for another meeting, but still got no reply. In his texts, he told her how he felt about her and his love for her and he said how much it would mean to hold her again. Still, she did not reply.

Now some of his personal problems were getting a little less and he had a brief fling with another woman he knew. Then he had another brief fling with another girl and then another one. He had a more long-term relationship as well. But he still wanted to get back with his old girlfriend, as he had strong feelings for her that would not go away. Perhaps, he felt like this because they had known each other for such a long while and it was longer than he had known his present girlfriend even after they had dated for some time. The girlfriend he had now often said she had other things she was doing, and she would not always see him. Nor would was she always affectionate when they saw each other. And when they did see each other, she would say she only wanted to talk and not to do anything else. So he thought again of his ex-girlfriend. She had not been any trouble like that. He looked out the window of his apartment and felt tremendously upset. If he could just talk to the woman he loved, then he would feel better. But he didn't have anybody to say anything to at all. And he felt love for her. As well, he wanted more than just to talk about this and that he could do with anyone else when he did meet other people. Yet he had discussed all his feelings about anything when she offered to marry him and so what more could he really say. Later he parted from his girlfriend, any girlfriend at all he had or could have, and he didn't start seeing anybody else either. So now, it was easy. He had nobody!

Then he saw his ex-girlfriend as he had wanted so badly for so long. She was just walking in the street doing some shopping, wearing second-hand clothes and traipsing between charity shops looking for bargains. And he wondered whether she was still in her old home with its antique furniture and large rooms. She saw him as they passed and he walked over to her and said what he had wanted to for all these years.

"I love you still!"

She turned her head away from him and he could not see whether it was good or bad or whether she felt pleased or sad. Nor could he see if she had laughed, and if she had done, whether it was at him or with him. She went up the street and on her way. But he did not follow her as he had already said all he wanted to say.

So now, he had seen her and spoken to her just as he had dearly wished to do so for so long. Having already said all he could have said and anything important to say, he doubted he would see her again. The only thing he had wanted to tell her, he had done so already. And he'd said it as she walked past on the rain-soaked pavement of the local street where he did his shopping. When she waved goodbye and it was with just the smallest of gestures that she did so, she had gone from him altogether and gone as well from everything. And she was in all ways gone again and gone away from him but still in another way, she was not lost and she was not gone for he had seen her once again and once more.

Love once told is never lost. Or love is not lost if said with all meaning it could ever have. And love is not lost that need never be said any different.

THE END


© Copyright 2020 Earnest Long. All rights reserved.

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