|Melancholy (standard:drama, 643 words)|
|Author: jazz3||Added: Aug 22 2002||Views/Reads: 1919/1||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A story of a woman reevaluating a relationship.|
Melancholy by jazz3 Everyone has a price to pay. Every action has a reaction. Lola thought about holding everything together. About all the endless errands - all the mechanisms that went into keeping the wheels rotating; keeping a family going. 'Here comes Lola - the phenomenal one-woman team with the other players looking on from the sidelines as, Lola, once again, comes through in the stretch.' Recalling old times, she chuckled softly to herself. Not one to easily give in to self-pity, she sometimes played the guilt card; it had seldom worked. She reflected on how she'd struggled with her conscience and with fear of the unknown and after all of this she had arrived here in an empty room ready to start over. Love is such a strange thing. There are the times when you smile fondly to yourself and remember all the silly, private jokes shared that aid in the continuity of a relationship, the familiarity and cohesiveness, the sense of couple-ness. Then there are the times when you grit your teeth in exasperation at numerous, thoughtless actions - wondering how you arrived here - are you even from the same planet? Unfortunately, there had been far too many of those irritating moments in recent years and a great deal less of the smiling fondly moments. Of course she went through the middle of the night nervous stomach - 'oh shit! - is this really the only way?' period. She thought how she entered into a romance - not expecting to fall in love. She was a single mother when they met. Actually, in the beginning, it just felt nice having someone who pulled out her 'baser instincts' - it was something physical and pleasant and Lola enjoyed being with someone who made her laugh after a period of profound sadness. They were both healing; the timing could not have been better. Their conversations grew longer - emotions more intense and then they were in love. Or as close to it as either one had ever experienced. She contemplated the irreversibility of her actions. How difficult to walk away from a life because he was not the person she wanted him to be. Coming to the realization that he could only be who he was meant to be - or better still (taking a page from one of her endless self-help books); the person he chose to be. Take your lumps, take the bitter with the sweet, etcetera, etcetera. Truth. He was not a God-awful human being and neither was she. She just had this sense that they both needed to be alone and regroup. And, perhaps, if they were blessed with a second chance at love, they would be with people better suited to their separate personalities. The bitch of it was, through all the contemplation, sleepless nights and angry moments, Lola did still love him. And on some level she held a small thread of hope that it wasn't too late; change was still possible - that they weren't out of chances. She was not naïve; she was not searching for some romantic ideal. She just wanted someone to lighten the load - to share the everyday mundane-ness of life - to confidently place something in his hands with the certainty that it would be handled. She had so wanted the selfishness of his character to kindly vanish - it would have made their lives so much easier. Lola felt like such thoughts betrayed them. Betrayed their years together - but it was only the unvarnished truth. Sometimes, love just wasn't enough - the scales were always unbalanced; more often than not, she carried the heavier weight. These words sounded cliched and trite in her own ears - but she could not summon up a better analogy. And that is how she arrived in this empty room. Starting over. Tweet
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