Letters Better Kept (Scriptic)

It has been a while since I participated in the Scriptic prompt exchange. 

Thank you Flaming Nyx for the prompt, it was a fun challenge.

Letters Better Kept (Scriptic)

The sand was warm, and there was just enough of a breeze to make this particular Sunday one of the best in Newport that I had seen in a long time. The waves swelled and rested repeatedly, dragging part of the shoreline back with each rhythmic motion. It soothed me. It might be the sounds or just the easy feeling of a simple landscape, but the ocean has always helped me to relax. 

With the distractions removed it should have been easy for me to write, but the words fizzled as they moved from my head to my hand. Frustration became aggravation, and then the radio started playing a familiar song. My pen landed on the paper like it had a mind of its own.

 Tobias,

You were right Toby; only love can break your heart, that’s how you know it’s love. We were so young when you first said those words, I didn’t know I would be playing them over and over again like a broken record in my head years later, but I do. It was here on this beach that I fell in love with you, and it is here on this beach that I sit, alone, thinking about you, about us.

I can still remember the first time you brought me here. It was three o’clock in the morning and my curfew was eleven. There was something exciting about being with you and doing what I was not supposed to do. I fell asleep with my head in your lap. I’m not sure how you managed to maneuver the stick shift with my shoulders in the way, but you did. Simple times, simple memories that are now etched on my heart like scratches in my soul. It’s a good thing I wasn’t counting time then; I was free to just enjoy being with you, no scorecard, no expectations, no regrets.

How long will it take before I can sit here on this beach and not think of you and all of our empty promises. My friends tell me “It’s for the best” that we are not together anymore, but it doesn’t feel like it, and there are some things they will never know. It makes me want to cram the words back in their mouth sideways. I bet they wouldn’t taste so good going down with a truth chaser now, would they? How could they understand what it feels like to be without you? They all go home to their spouses in cute little houses, with pat schedules for their kids, cats, dogs, and family dinners. It makes me angry. It makes me sad.

My heart was broken when you told me to go, and crushed when you told me you were getting married. It was supposed to be our wedding, we made the plans, set the date, and then you married her… how could you? She was supposed to be my best friend. Betrayal is a bitter fruit to taste; I knew someday you would both pay for the hurt you caused, that’s the way the world works, but it wasn’t happening fast enough for me.

How could I have known that I would run into her again, that she would ask me to come over and see your son? It was hard not to be bitter, to swallow my pride and speak to her trapped as we slowly went from the fourth floor to the main floor of the building. When the elevator opened, she handed me the address and told me you would not be home all weekend. “Please come by,” she said. And so I did. 

I fought back the heart-wrenching pain as I walked through the door of your home, and saw your son, your room, your life. I stayed for too long, while she reminisced of better times. She told me that I should have fought for you, that she believed we were meant to be together. She told me about how sorry she was, how unhappy she was, how she wished things had been different. While I choked back tears and words that were better left unsaid, you walked in through the front door. Thoughts flew through my head so fast it was all I could do to breathe.

Months passed. You became friends with my current boyfriend. We had dinners together, camped together, laughed, and lived together. After a while it was easier to accept where you were, and that it was supposed to be that way. I would be lying if I told you I didn’t love you anymore, I did, but I found a place to put everything so that I could function, and continue moving forward.

Timing is everything. It had only been three days since I broke it off with my boyfriend, when I opened the door to see you standing on my back porch in the dark, she wasn’t with you. I had already polished off half a bottle of whiskey by myself. It wasn’t like me; I didn’t like to drink alone. You’d had your share too; I could smell it on you, all over you. I let you in.

I wondered why you weren’t home with your wife and son on Valentine’s Day, it was where I thought all married people would be, with each other, but here you were standing in my kitchen with so many words trapped inside your eyes. Before you had a chance to let any of them run loose in my presence, I kissed you. Your lips were warm, familiar, easy to taste. I barely felt your fingers move through my hair as you kissed me back, slowly, deeply, deliberately. 

I didn’t notice that we were no longer standing in the kitchen, until after our naked bodies separated. The first words spoken were yours, “thank you.” I just nodded my head and slowly got dressed. In the dark, you would never see the tears that crept down my face. I still loved you. You still wanted me. All of this was so wrong, but you were right Tobias…only love can break your heart, we are living proof.

Always,

Cally

As I shut the door on a memory, I knew it could never happen again. I poured another shot, turned the music up, and danced by myself until the sun came up.

For the Scriptic.org prompt exchange this week, FlamingNyx at http://www.flamingnyx.wordpress.com gave me this prompt: You're sitting alone facing the beach on a Sunday morning, struggling to get the words on paper. Just as you admit defeat, you write the name of a past lover, and the first line of a letter: "Only love can break your heart." Complete the letter.

I gave Sinistral Scribblings at http://sinistralscribblings.com this prompt: Red roses and rice paper walls.