It has been the perfect evening. The cliche, candle lit dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant. Laughs over sweet wine. Her hand in mine as we walk the riverfront. My blazer over her cold shoulders. A ring in my pocket. All for a woman I do not love. Don’t get me wrong, I have love for her, but I could never be IN love with her. She is beautiful, intelligent and is the most genuine human being I have ever known. To be honest, I envy her. She is authentically and incredibly herself. I could only dream of being as confident. She says she loves me and I believe her. Yet the truth is she simply does not know me. Not many do. That openly gay, artsy boy in high school who we so proudly called “fag” in the hallway. He knew me. My experimental room mate in college. He knew me. My ex girlfriend’s brother. He knew me too. But my soon to be fiancé? She doesn’t know me. Some people don’t believe in soulmates, but I do. I perhaps that only complicates things further. There are days, like today, that I try to imagine what my soul mate would look like. Is he tall like me? Where would we have went on our first date? Does he prefer wine over beer? Is his family supportive or would they shun him for being gay, like mine? The only thing I do know about my soul mate is that I will never meet him, at least not as my soul mate. Who knows, we could have already met. Hell, he could have very well been my ex girlfriend’s brother. As much as I would love to pursue him I can’t help but consider everything I would lose in doing so. My family. As much as they refuse to accept me for who I really am, I still can’t bare to lose them. My mind returns to my non soul mate, female partner and I realize that now is the time. I think of how happy my family will be when I tell them she said yes. This is the only thought that motivates me to move forward. My entire life I have secretly been a gay man. Going forward I will secretly be a gay man in a heterosexual marriage. Nothing turns me off more. Still I drop to one knee, fake the smile she fell in love with and pull the ring from my pocket. I open my mouth to give my well rehearsed yet meaningful speech about how I couldn’t bare living without her. I finish what I planned to say and look deeply into her eyes. She cries and I know it is tears of joy. Except it isn’t. “I can’t.” She says as tears slowly fall down her cheeks. “I am in love with a woman.”
From the moment I first laid eyes on you, you took my breath away. I was just a child but I was in awe. Even at a young age I recognized how miraculous you were. Your water is never ending, just like my love for you. You separate earth from earth, making people feel worlds apart. Yet when I am next to you I have never felt so close to myself. You are the only thing that always brings me peace. Us mankind, we may not treat you as we should. Lord knows we don’t respect you. Yet you are always there, waves crashing, again and again, bringing breaths of fresh air. I sit on your beach and admire you as you take every worry away. Your water cleanses my soul. No matter how I feel you always seem to understand. My toes step in the water and your waves wrap around my body. If I were to lay still you would pull me closer into you and farther from the world that worries me so. I love you forever, beautiful ocean.
Hello, Anne, Anne with an E. I see you have awoke in the 21st century. Allow me to welcome you into my home. I know you are an orphan, but you are no longer alone. This house was my grandmother’s but now it is mine. In this living room we would read the tales of Green Gables pretty much all of the time. Now here you are and it is quite the spectacle. With your lovely red hair, pale face and freckles. Let’s get in the car and go for a drive. It’ll be a bit different than a horse and buggy ride. The world is different now, you will see. The good news is women have more rights, but in all honesty no one is free. Reading is almost a thing of the past. Every one lives online where access is fast. I will be honest with you although you may not wish to hear it. No one in these times are truly a kindred spirit. People don’t give even when they can spare it. And there are much worse names to be called than Carrots. The good news is any salon can change your red hair. Do not fear, it won’t turn green, I swear! I hope we can get you back to where you belong. Leaving your pure soul here would be so wrong. While there may be some good people here I promise it will only be a few. You definitely won’t find a Marilla or Matthew. So fare well dear Anne, may your soul stay free. For we all love dear Anne, Anne with an E.
I sit awake for days on end reading my horoscope. I thought astrology was a generalization that could be applied to any individual, but how wrong I was indeed! The predictions arise one by one; each are oddly specific and designed for me. For the first time in my life, I feel prepared for what the world may throw at me. How would I have survived my failed marriage, if the stars had not informed me beforehand? My wife had claimed I was unstable with my “irrational” accusations, yet look where we fell! She is gone and destiny has been fulfilled! I hold my tarot cards to my chest for comfort as I embrace the journey into my future. I wonder what the next chapter of my life will look like? Will it be filled with fortunate or a new love? I flip over the card and I feel the air being torn from my lungs as I stare at the card. It is decorated with the dark skeleton which rides a pale horse. Death. I look around for imminent danger. I see nothing but I feel the cards are right. Of course they are right! I begin to weep because I know what I must do. If death must claim me then it will not be as a thief in the night. No, I will present myself to him, prepared and ready. So I end my life.
I lie on the ground. I stretch my limbs as far away from my body as I can without detaching them. It is cold and it is raining, but I don’t care. For the first time I do not feel heat radiating from another’s body. My shoulders brush against no one. My hands feel only the puddle of water growing under and around me. There is no sound but the rain and for a moment, even it ceases. For the first time in my life I hear my own breath. In and out. In and out. I smile because I am alone.
Standing in an open field. Wearing black for the funeral I didn’t attend. How can I say goodbye in a room full of strangers? They’ll think I didn’t love you. They’ll say I didn’t care. But they will be wrong. So I’ll stand in this field and wave goodbye. Tears running down my face; how I wish you were here to wipe them away. I look up at the gray sky. It looks like a blank slate as if even God didn’t wish to paint. How could He on a day like this? I continue to gaze upward and close my eyes. I feel the sun begin to shine. And while there is still mist in the air from the rain, the warmth of the sun almost feels like your arms wrapped around me. The beams shine upon my face and I can feel my tears fading. I tell myself it is you wiping them away. I stand in this open field. Missing you. Hating you for leaving me here alone. Wishing I could kiss you one last time. I think about your last days. The pain, the uncertainty, the dreaded goodbyes. I smile because I know your soul is now free. But damn. I miss you.
If I fell into a story, I would write it very well. I would be the main character in a plot so bliss I would be thankful that I fell. My pockets would be lined with gold, there would be nothing I could not buy. Everyone would know me, the world itself would be my prize. I’d be happy everyday because I would have all of the material things. Shiny car, expensive suit and the biggest of diamond rings. I could host fantastic parties where all the rich would come. Yet now that I think of it, that doesn’t sound like too much fun. I may have the largest house with an indoor swimming pool. But would I truly have friends or would they all think I was a fool? So maybe if I fell into my story I wouldn’t have to be the protagonist. In fact I could do the opposite, that’s right, I will be the antagonist! No rules or regulations for me. I would live life as it is intended to be! I would be the biggest and scariest villain just because I could. My evil ways would cause me to be so misunderstood. I would track the main character down and fight him to his death! Until he was defeated I would not be able to rest. I could drive as fast as I wanted and break every law. To anyone who crossed my path with me they’d have to brawl! Yet I can’t help but imagine how draining a criminal life must be. Running from the police, living in jail... are you really free? Instead, if I fell into a story I think i’d be more tertiary. Not in the spotlight or connected to the plot, simply ordinary. I would have the availability to do as I please without standing out. I could come and go as I wished and travel all about. I’d make my way to a beach and stretch out in the sand. Or perhaps I would travel west and become a mountain man. This seems pretty nice except who would notice me? No reader would ever question hey, who exactly is he? I’d be there for a scene or two, serve my purpose and then go. Perhaps I don’t like this idea, no I don’t believe so. So maybe in my story there is only one place for me. Sitting here behind this pen, my plot nothing more than a dream. Sometimes life seems bland but it is all about the perspective, you see. Because I finally recognize there is no one better to be than me.
“Count back from ten, slowly.” My therapist tells me as I lie on the hard sofa.
Ten. I see a lake.
Nine. I’m standing at the edge of the dock.
Eight. I’m falling forward.
Seven. I dive into the black water.
Six. I can’t breathe.
Five. The memories begin.
Four. I remember your face.
Three. I can smell your home.
Two. I remember it now.
One. What you did to me.
Your love is like a high, but I am down to earth. They say you are addicting. I’m so sober it hurts.
Your love for me is so dramatic, I guess for love, I’m too pragmatic.
Your love is never ending, One day we will marry. I laugh at the thought, For this is temporary.
Your love for me will die like a fire, for all flames fade, and this I desire.
