"So, I've decided that romance is dead." No preamble, no build up, just a stated fact. Thats how our talks always were. Having said my piece, I waited.
Setting his china cup down, ever so gracefully for such a large man, he just smiled at me. Beamed, I think, is the word all the old dead poets would use.
"And you are just realizing this; or just now accepting it?" That smooth and silky voice, the voice of a bard, never failed to amaze me. That such dulcet tones could come from one who, on first inspection, would appear to all onlookers to know nothing more in life than hard labor and pain. But his was a voice of poetry.
"No. Not realization, nor acceptance. Just a decision made, nothing more. No different than choosing either to use cream in my tea, or to pass."
I stop, reflecting on my freshly spoken words. Until this moment, it really hadn't seemed all that simple. But there it was, the bald truth. I knew now that I really didn't buy it anymore.
"Ah, but that is a dilemma for you, isn't it?? To deny romance, the romantic heart, then do you not deny yourself, and your very existence??"And that look. Not so much a smirk, as it is a knowing look. You know the kind. The kind where the person is always right, but you want to smack the piss out of them just the same.
Before he can start in, as he inevitably always does, I cut him off at the quick. "But see, such thoughts are reserved only for those that can still think with their hearts. I no longer have that burden upon my shoulders. My thoughts are no longer corrupted with interference of such petty
emotions." Not one more word. Feeling smug and victorious, I take a long sip of the hot red tea before me, savoring the aroma.
But looking up from my cup, his eyes lock onto mine, and he has me. Damn him, and damn that infuriating look I know all too well. "So you speak from a broken heart then?? How does that set you
above any one of a billion other poor souls that have come before you??" That flash of perfect smile. "So you have just one more bad encounter, and here you sit, telling me that you're worse off
than van Gogh while he cut off his own ear in the name of unrequited love?? And what of your own hero??" I cringe. He smile widens. He KNOWS he has me. "So, what of poor Edgar Allan?? Wasted
away his career, his health, his LIFE, pining for one lost love that he foolishly, vainly tried to recreate with another?? Is THAT the path that you now choose to follow??" His spiel interrupted only
briefy by a rip of laughter, sounding almost like the peal of church bells. "Forgive me if I laugh, little one, no jest at YOUR expense. I merely laugh at the thought of one such as you, determined, stubborn, self-sacrificing even, saying he is going to throw in the towel and waste away to dust. We BOTH know better. If this WERE possible, we wouldn't be the good friends that we are now. No, I hear only the hurt grumblings of an all-too-bruised heart, nothing more. As in the past, so too will this pass. You'll be right back out there, doing exactly as you have always done. Its who you are, you cannot
help it. Its you nature to chase you tail, in the hopes that one day you may just catch it. But, tell me, little pup, after you HAVE caught your tail, just what THEN will you do with it??"
How very unlike him to leave such a door open in front of me!! But, on second thought, its most likely another of his infamous word traps. I choose my next words wisely. "As you said, it was once
my way, my nature, my PLAN, to chase my tail, and damn the consequences." He nods slightly in
agreement, assuming I'm walking right into his trap. "But as I said, I am no longer constrained to think with a heart, broken or otherwise. One cannot think with a heart they no longer have." I revel
in the split-second that the grin slides from his face. "Go on", he says, unsure now of just where this may be going.
"Understand, yes, I know," I continue; "I KNEW, even without you confirming it, that I was truly the last of the Romantics. And finally, I decided that the pressure was just far too much. After all, my
friend, thinking, feeling with this poet's heart has only gotten me WHERE?? I am the living embodiment of "nice guys finish last". I knew this would bring a smile to his lips; one of
his favorite things to say about my character. I continue. "Let me set the scene, as if YOU do not already know." Another smirk. "As I lay there with her, holding her, knowing that that moment was
all I had ever sought to call my own, I still FELT that it couldn't be, that it was still wrong. And yes, I could have continued, and she would have happily followed suit. But even HAD I continued, that last remnant of this damned old, tired heart just couldn't, even then,
on our last night together, allow me to let her make that mistake. I couldn't be the way I now am had I let her, LED HER, hand in hand through the greatest night of her life. For the dawning light
would have shed no joyous sunlight, only pale shades of regret and remorse, sadness and despair.
NO!! So, I held her, stroked her hair (that you know I love so very much), and just talked with her. Of the times we HAVE had, those stolen moments, the dreams of our life together that we once
humored, and how to always hold them close, and never forget. And as I tucked her in, kissed her forehead, her eyes, her lips for the last time, I lifted her head and looked deep in her eyes. I told her that she may not have me, or even chose me, but she did, and always would have, my heart. My purest heart for her. And she knew. Oh, she knew. She tried, tried to pull me back close, but I could not let that be. I took the hand that depserately, half-heartedly grasped for mine, brought it
to my lips, and kissed her palm, and it was then that she knew it was truly over. With unseen, but felt, tears in her eyes, I stalked from the bedside. At the door, I DID stop, and in a whisper even a
heart would have trouble hearing, I told her one last time of my love for her. And then, I turned and walked away, her with tears in her eyes, as I did in mine. Passing by the spare room, then the
overstuffed couch, and even my favorite chair, I grabbed a throw pillow, and my jacket, and found a spot of floor that appealed to me. And it was there that I lay, mind racing, until Dawn. When I heard her feet padding gently, softly down the rear hallway in my direction, I sat up, drawing my
jacket close to ward off the cold, or maybe the pain I thought was to come, and waited. After a sleep-hazed glance, she saw me. With slow and deliberatle steps, she made her way to me. Unkempt
hair, those sleepless dark circles under her eyes, she was still a vision of beauty to me. An angel pure, draped in gossamer and grace, backlit by dawn's first light. And all she said was 'Goodbye' " At this, I paused to allow my companion his much deserved, and my much anticipated response, of laughter. "Forgive my poor choice of words, my old friend. I DO tend to forget our mutual feelings on the subject of "angels"."
Another heartfelt laugh, at which I thought he would upturn his cup of tea. I found myself almost wanting to laugh along, but just couldn't. "My sincerest apologies", he started. I merely waved him off.
"No, truly, may I contribute my unasked for observation??", he asked. With the slightest nod from me, he continued on. "So, by simply saying that you have given this girl, this MORTAL, your heart, you are now free to live life in any form you wish?? DO I have that right?? I'm only getting the facts straight before I go on." Glancing at me over his now-drained tea cup, he off-handedly motined
for the server girl while shooting me a look that said "finish". I light one of my Indian clove
rolls, and inhale deeply before answering. "Yes, you cynical old goat, you have it. No more, and no less, than that." I too, glancing sidelong at the pretty olive-skinned server that approached,
motioned for a refill as well. Before returning my sights to my "friend" seated across the table, I
DID notice the pretty and crooked smile of the new arrival at our little "discussion". As if a ghost, she flitted first to his side of the table, removing empty cup and saucer, before drifting
over to my side. As she danced her routine without thought, He looked at me and said, straight-faced, "How do you intend to prove this to yourself?? Not me, NO, but you, yourself, as you lay there, one sleepless night after another??" Taking this as a personal challenge, I smiled at
him. This, I think, frightened him, something very rare indeed in our long relationship. He knows now what that smile means. With no thought on my part, and seeing the pretty server girl's hand reaching for my now empty cup, I quickly, gracefully take her hand in mine, turn to meet her eyes.
"Mon cheri, would you believe an old man such as me, if he were to look deep into those beautiful eyes, and ask if you are truly Happy??" She stopped, mid-service, eyes locked, and was speechless. A
reaction I was far too familiar with. "No. Say nothing. But, let me ask one more question, one you need not answer." In a sweet, almost girlish-voice, she could barely eke out a stammered "OK". "Here
you are, day in and day out, serving all of these unnamed, faceless crowds. Now we BOTH know that
this CANNOT make you happy, true??" She could hardly nod her reluctant approval. "Day after day, you
give yourself fully, every bit of who you are, smiling when you feel like screaming, and yet you
hide behind this mask of feigned happiness. But, tell me, who is there with you, at day's end, when
that tired mask slips away, and all that is left is the true beauty of the soul that you are. THEN,
do you find happiness?? Do you find comfort in a loved one's arms?? Is there one there to give you
back even HALF of all that you given out throughout the day?? Is there one, whose true name is Love, to make you feel that all of that is worth it?? To lay you down at night?? And be there at
your side when you awaken, with love, with a smile??" She could only meet my eyes for a mere moment,
before looking away. As she turned with her burdened tray of empty dishes, she managed to say over
her shoulder, "I DO have my pup, who is all the companionship and friend that I need." And then she
was gone.
I look up to meet his oh-so-knowing grin with a heart-felt smile of my own. He takes the cue. "See?? ROMANTIC HEART." "No', I correct him. "Just an honest question. Nothing more." That ******** smirk
again. "So you think, even "without" your long-owned Romantic heart, that such things can bring you
happiness??" Now I have him. "Seems you've forgotten much in our time, my old friend. Its NOT always about happiness. Sometimes, just SOMETIMES, its about enjoying the moment for all it is worth."
"Oho, so you ENJOYED that little tete-a-tete with an unnamed waitress??" Now I laugh. "See, my old friend, you ARE getting old. The very first thing I learned is that her name is Amarinth. And to answer your question, Yes, I DID very much enjoy that little back-and-forth." "But how, and why?!?"
"Because, my dark-skinned friend, I may have foregone my heart, but I STILL see far. THAT was merely a beginning". I grin, he looks bewildered, and we fall back into silence, awaiting our next pot of tea.
We had very little time to wait in silence. Before long, the redheaded ghost of a server was back with, not just our fresh tea, but a full platter of scones, bagels, fruits, cheese, and was that baklava??
My soul smiled. As she set out the fresh, unrequested spread, I catch her eye. HE notices too, though stays mute. I reach up and take her cheek in my hand. She only looks at me, with eyes smiling, and gently, reluctantly, pulls away. "I'd love nothing more", she says, "than to join in your talk, to hear more of those true and beautiful words. But I'm swamped as it is, and am trying to finish before I leave in fourty minutes." Then, giving me a smile that say more than any book I've ever read, she slips her hand into mine. I wrap my fingers around hers, if only for a second, and then she is gone again. "More free goodies??", I hear him ask. I look down, and discovering one of the common paper drink napkins, I unfold it. There, written in marker, is "Ami - 555-1010- I get off at 2. Wait for me??" Supressing a grin, I throw a glance at my table mate and, holding up the note, say not a word. He only meets my eyes, and nods slowly in understanding.
"So," he says, "you've trumped even my best card, and without a single word to ME in defence. My compliments. It now seems that the student has outshone the master." Even admitting this, he cannot help but smile, widely. "No, my old friend, no such thing. I have only just accepted what was my destiny all this time. And, God Damn you ,you've KNOWN it. In all our time, I have loved you like a brother, and hated you like a bitter ex-wife. You have always been there to listen; but at the same time, you KNEW that al I said was to no avail. But I understand. Some things we cannot be TOLD; somethings we must EXPERIENCE. To be honest, I don't know wheteher to thank you or to swing on you...." More of that beautiful laughter. "No worries, my old frined. THAT I am used to. But none of THAT is important. What IS important is that you truly know now what you must do, what will give one such as you what pleasure you could ever hope for."
I cannot help but laugh. "You say this as if you KNEW that it would be this way??"
And with the most serious look I have EVER seen on his face, he says only, "Maybe I did??"
With that, he stands, removes far too may bills from his wallet, and, having tossed them on our table, walks away, wordlessly, down the marble steps away from the sea-front patio, aimlessly wandering away from the cafe, without a look back.....
Setting his china cup down, ever so gracefully for such a large man, he just smiled at me. Beamed, I think, is the word all the old dead poets would use.
"And you are just realizing this; or just now accepting it?" That smooth and silky voice, the voice of a bard, never failed to amaze me. That such dulcet tones could come from one who, on first inspection, would appear to all onlookers to know nothing more in life than hard labor and pain. But his was a voice of poetry.
"No. Not realization, nor acceptance. Just a decision made, nothing more. No different than choosing either to use cream in my tea, or to pass."
I stop, reflecting on my freshly spoken words. Until this moment, it really hadn't seemed all that simple. But there it was, the bald truth. I knew now that I really didn't buy it anymore.
"Ah, but that is a dilemma for you, isn't it?? To deny romance, the romantic heart, then do you not deny yourself, and your very existence??"And that look. Not so much a smirk, as it is a knowing look. You know the kind. The kind where the person is always right, but you want to smack the piss out of them just the same.
Before he can start in, as he inevitably always does, I cut him off at the quick. "But see, such thoughts are reserved only for those that can still think with their hearts. I no longer have that burden upon my shoulders. My thoughts are no longer corrupted with interference of such petty
emotions." Not one more word. Feeling smug and victorious, I take a long sip of the hot red tea before me, savoring the aroma.
But looking up from my cup, his eyes lock onto mine, and he has me. Damn him, and damn that infuriating look I know all too well. "So you speak from a broken heart then?? How does that set you
above any one of a billion other poor souls that have come before you??" That flash of perfect smile. "So you have just one more bad encounter, and here you sit, telling me that you're worse off
than van Gogh while he cut off his own ear in the name of unrequited love?? And what of your own hero??" I cringe. He smile widens. He KNOWS he has me. "So, what of poor Edgar Allan?? Wasted
away his career, his health, his LIFE, pining for one lost love that he foolishly, vainly tried to recreate with another?? Is THAT the path that you now choose to follow??" His spiel interrupted only
briefy by a rip of laughter, sounding almost like the peal of church bells. "Forgive me if I laugh, little one, no jest at YOUR expense. I merely laugh at the thought of one such as you, determined, stubborn, self-sacrificing even, saying he is going to throw in the towel and waste away to dust. We BOTH know better. If this WERE possible, we wouldn't be the good friends that we are now. No, I hear only the hurt grumblings of an all-too-bruised heart, nothing more. As in the past, so too will this pass. You'll be right back out there, doing exactly as you have always done. Its who you are, you cannot
help it. Its you nature to chase you tail, in the hopes that one day you may just catch it. But, tell me, little pup, after you HAVE caught your tail, just what THEN will you do with it??"
How very unlike him to leave such a door open in front of me!! But, on second thought, its most likely another of his infamous word traps. I choose my next words wisely. "As you said, it was once
my way, my nature, my PLAN, to chase my tail, and damn the consequences." He nods slightly in
agreement, assuming I'm walking right into his trap. "But as I said, I am no longer constrained to think with a heart, broken or otherwise. One cannot think with a heart they no longer have." I revel
in the split-second that the grin slides from his face. "Go on", he says, unsure now of just where this may be going.
"Understand, yes, I know," I continue; "I KNEW, even without you confirming it, that I was truly the last of the Romantics. And finally, I decided that the pressure was just far too much. After all, my
friend, thinking, feeling with this poet's heart has only gotten me WHERE?? I am the living embodiment of "nice guys finish last". I knew this would bring a smile to his lips; one of
his favorite things to say about my character. I continue. "Let me set the scene, as if YOU do not already know." Another smirk. "As I lay there with her, holding her, knowing that that moment was
all I had ever sought to call my own, I still FELT that it couldn't be, that it was still wrong. And yes, I could have continued, and she would have happily followed suit. But even HAD I continued, that last remnant of this damned old, tired heart just couldn't, even then,
on our last night together, allow me to let her make that mistake. I couldn't be the way I now am had I let her, LED HER, hand in hand through the greatest night of her life. For the dawning light
would have shed no joyous sunlight, only pale shades of regret and remorse, sadness and despair.
NO!! So, I held her, stroked her hair (that you know I love so very much), and just talked with her. Of the times we HAVE had, those stolen moments, the dreams of our life together that we once
humored, and how to always hold them close, and never forget. And as I tucked her in, kissed her forehead, her eyes, her lips for the last time, I lifted her head and looked deep in her eyes. I told her that she may not have me, or even chose me, but she did, and always would have, my heart. My purest heart for her. And she knew. Oh, she knew. She tried, tried to pull me back close, but I could not let that be. I took the hand that depserately, half-heartedly grasped for mine, brought it
to my lips, and kissed her palm, and it was then that she knew it was truly over. With unseen, but felt, tears in her eyes, I stalked from the bedside. At the door, I DID stop, and in a whisper even a
heart would have trouble hearing, I told her one last time of my love for her. And then, I turned and walked away, her with tears in her eyes, as I did in mine. Passing by the spare room, then the
overstuffed couch, and even my favorite chair, I grabbed a throw pillow, and my jacket, and found a spot of floor that appealed to me. And it was there that I lay, mind racing, until Dawn. When I heard her feet padding gently, softly down the rear hallway in my direction, I sat up, drawing my
jacket close to ward off the cold, or maybe the pain I thought was to come, and waited. After a sleep-hazed glance, she saw me. With slow and deliberatle steps, she made her way to me. Unkempt
hair, those sleepless dark circles under her eyes, she was still a vision of beauty to me. An angel pure, draped in gossamer and grace, backlit by dawn's first light. And all she said was 'Goodbye' " At this, I paused to allow my companion his much deserved, and my much anticipated response, of laughter. "Forgive my poor choice of words, my old friend. I DO tend to forget our mutual feelings on the subject of "angels"."
Another heartfelt laugh, at which I thought he would upturn his cup of tea. I found myself almost wanting to laugh along, but just couldn't. "My sincerest apologies", he started. I merely waved him off.
"No, truly, may I contribute my unasked for observation??", he asked. With the slightest nod from me, he continued on. "So, by simply saying that you have given this girl, this MORTAL, your heart, you are now free to live life in any form you wish?? DO I have that right?? I'm only getting the facts straight before I go on." Glancing at me over his now-drained tea cup, he off-handedly motined
for the server girl while shooting me a look that said "finish". I light one of my Indian clove
rolls, and inhale deeply before answering. "Yes, you cynical old goat, you have it. No more, and no less, than that." I too, glancing sidelong at the pretty olive-skinned server that approached,
motioned for a refill as well. Before returning my sights to my "friend" seated across the table, I
DID notice the pretty and crooked smile of the new arrival at our little "discussion". As if a ghost, she flitted first to his side of the table, removing empty cup and saucer, before drifting
over to my side. As she danced her routine without thought, He looked at me and said, straight-faced, "How do you intend to prove this to yourself?? Not me, NO, but you, yourself, as you lay there, one sleepless night after another??" Taking this as a personal challenge, I smiled at
him. This, I think, frightened him, something very rare indeed in our long relationship. He knows now what that smile means. With no thought on my part, and seeing the pretty server girl's hand reaching for my now empty cup, I quickly, gracefully take her hand in mine, turn to meet her eyes.
"Mon cheri, would you believe an old man such as me, if he were to look deep into those beautiful eyes, and ask if you are truly Happy??" She stopped, mid-service, eyes locked, and was speechless. A
reaction I was far too familiar with. "No. Say nothing. But, let me ask one more question, one you need not answer." In a sweet, almost girlish-voice, she could barely eke out a stammered "OK". "Here
you are, day in and day out, serving all of these unnamed, faceless crowds. Now we BOTH know that
this CANNOT make you happy, true??" She could hardly nod her reluctant approval. "Day after day, you
give yourself fully, every bit of who you are, smiling when you feel like screaming, and yet you
hide behind this mask of feigned happiness. But, tell me, who is there with you, at day's end, when
that tired mask slips away, and all that is left is the true beauty of the soul that you are. THEN,
do you find happiness?? Do you find comfort in a loved one's arms?? Is there one there to give you
back even HALF of all that you given out throughout the day?? Is there one, whose true name is Love, to make you feel that all of that is worth it?? To lay you down at night?? And be there at
your side when you awaken, with love, with a smile??" She could only meet my eyes for a mere moment,
before looking away. As she turned with her burdened tray of empty dishes, she managed to say over
her shoulder, "I DO have my pup, who is all the companionship and friend that I need." And then she
was gone.
I look up to meet his oh-so-knowing grin with a heart-felt smile of my own. He takes the cue. "See?? ROMANTIC HEART." "No', I correct him. "Just an honest question. Nothing more." That ******** smirk
again. "So you think, even "without" your long-owned Romantic heart, that such things can bring you
happiness??" Now I have him. "Seems you've forgotten much in our time, my old friend. Its NOT always about happiness. Sometimes, just SOMETIMES, its about enjoying the moment for all it is worth."
"Oho, so you ENJOYED that little tete-a-tete with an unnamed waitress??" Now I laugh. "See, my old friend, you ARE getting old. The very first thing I learned is that her name is Amarinth. And to answer your question, Yes, I DID very much enjoy that little back-and-forth." "But how, and why?!?"
"Because, my dark-skinned friend, I may have foregone my heart, but I STILL see far. THAT was merely a beginning". I grin, he looks bewildered, and we fall back into silence, awaiting our next pot of tea.
We had very little time to wait in silence. Before long, the redheaded ghost of a server was back with, not just our fresh tea, but a full platter of scones, bagels, fruits, cheese, and was that baklava??
My soul smiled. As she set out the fresh, unrequested spread, I catch her eye. HE notices too, though stays mute. I reach up and take her cheek in my hand. She only looks at me, with eyes smiling, and gently, reluctantly, pulls away. "I'd love nothing more", she says, "than to join in your talk, to hear more of those true and beautiful words. But I'm swamped as it is, and am trying to finish before I leave in fourty minutes." Then, giving me a smile that say more than any book I've ever read, she slips her hand into mine. I wrap my fingers around hers, if only for a second, and then she is gone again. "More free goodies??", I hear him ask. I look down, and discovering one of the common paper drink napkins, I unfold it. There, written in marker, is "Ami - 555-1010- I get off at 2. Wait for me??" Supressing a grin, I throw a glance at my table mate and, holding up the note, say not a word. He only meets my eyes, and nods slowly in understanding.
"So," he says, "you've trumped even my best card, and without a single word to ME in defence. My compliments. It now seems that the student has outshone the master." Even admitting this, he cannot help but smile, widely. "No, my old friend, no such thing. I have only just accepted what was my destiny all this time. And, God Damn you ,you've KNOWN it. In all our time, I have loved you like a brother, and hated you like a bitter ex-wife. You have always been there to listen; but at the same time, you KNEW that al I said was to no avail. But I understand. Some things we cannot be TOLD; somethings we must EXPERIENCE. To be honest, I don't know wheteher to thank you or to swing on you...." More of that beautiful laughter. "No worries, my old frined. THAT I am used to. But none of THAT is important. What IS important is that you truly know now what you must do, what will give one such as you what pleasure you could ever hope for."
I cannot help but laugh. "You say this as if you KNEW that it would be this way??"
And with the most serious look I have EVER seen on his face, he says only, "Maybe I did??"
With that, he stands, removes far too may bills from his wallet, and, having tossed them on our table, walks away, wordlessly, down the marble steps away from the sea-front patio, aimlessly wandering away from the cafe, without a look back.....
