Endless

“I love you.”

And so it begins. He has uttered these words before, but never have they been so heartfelt. Never has so much ridden upon the saying of them. His heart beats rapidly and with an impossibility of sound that makes him fear he may be dying. And in a way, he is. Nothing will ever be the same again. His heart is marking an intransigent time that pulls him back into the moment and holds him there with a force that frightens and humbles him.

For the very first time, he notices the fine hairs on her cheek. Like a peach, he thinks to himself. A fruit that he wants to taste over and over again. Then he is thinking of consuming her. Taking her into himself. He wonders whether that will complete them both and make some sort of sense of their existence. That thought will worry away at him from this day forth. His constant lack and the desire to be complete. 

Wanting her to respond, but faltering in her gaze. Her eyes are warm and provide an answer that he thought he had wanted, but already he is not so sure, and there is the potential for betrayal in this doubt of his. There are four seasons and he does not know whether he could bear the Winter of her. Right now his love will only thrive in the fair weather. It needs to be embedded in her fertile soil and nurtured in the warmth of her.

She opens up to his proclamation of love. The flower of her unfurls in his determined light and she smiles her affirmation, her eyes burning all the more brightly. 

“I love you too.”

And so it is done. There is no going back now. There may be vows later in the day, confirmed with a flourish of ink. But the contract is signed right here. Love is eternal. Not even a fool would speak its name and summon it forth in anything like jest.

They do not know each other. They barely know themselves. There is only intent born of a certainty. All that certainty may be, is that they neither of them want to be alone. They need a hand to hold and a shoulder to cry on. Neither of them will admit this. They dress their intent in fluff, nonsense and bravado and in the dressing of it, they make it all the more difficult to get to know each other. Preferring instead to raid their parents’ wardrobes and play at dress up like all the cool kids do.

This particular charade is played for five years. They married before their third year together was out. A grand affair that no one could afford. But not to have followed the ritual would have been an admission of pending failure. The temptation of providence. The wedding was the pinnacle of their game of dressing up. They looked the part and acted the best they could. Then they drank the memories away. Relying on an invasive photographer to ruin the mood of the day and capture hundreds of false masks for posterity.

“I’m pregnant.”

The admissions of love becomes more real now. They have to. The pretence of a cursory life is less sustainable. They have responsibilities and only now become aware of the responsibilities they had prior to their children arriving on the scene. Getting away with it for far too long. Riding their luck. Taking the proverbial.

For the next two decades, they love their children and are further bonded by this shared interest. Taking each other for granted in the hustle and bustle of parenthood. Lashing out at their co-conspirator whenever they become too tired or too frustrated with the merry-go-round they find themselves trapped upon. Continuing to wing their lives and hide behind the outfits, the haircuts and the turns of phrase that they hope makes them seem unique.

Only when their children fly the nest do they notice each other again. They eye each other across the space vacated by their offspring. Over a barbed wire fence of resentment previously obscured by the frantic routines of family life. A treacherous boundary that neither of them recall ever being there before the kids fucked off to university never to return to the fold.

They don’t remove that obstacle. They ignore it. Finding a way across it, through it and over it. Embracing even as they are caught and cut and swaddled in a terrible awkwardness. The pain is a part of it. Necessary. Their belligerence buckles the metal and their blood, sweat and tears rust it away. This is a marriage after all.

Theirs is a habit that they will not relinquish, and as they persevere with this perverse endeavour, they forget themselves and finally they let their guard down. Two battle weary warriors laying down sword, axe and shield and sensing a commonality that they could not share with another. It matters not who’s side they fought on. They share wounds and a fierce knowledge of battles fought for naught. 

Stronger now. Forged in the fires of life. They find it within themselves to revert at last to their true nature. They lay themselves bare and vulnerable. Roll onto their backs and offer their throat to the other. In that act of submission and servitude they at last truly connect, and in that connection they find an overwhelming intimacy. And they find themselves in the loving warmth of the other. 

The gentlest of touches. A shared glance. A smile. The choreography of their lives is transformed and there is a peace that had always seemed elusive in its unknowableness. 

Grandchildren join the fray now. And for once in their lives they are ready. They ebb and flow with the tide of life and there is an inexplicable joy in the simplicity of their existence. These small, playful and delightful beings are a second chance. Another roll of the dice. This is more like it. They see now that they can be the change. They are the change. They give of themselves. They give all the love that they can muster and try as they might to give it all to their children’s children, they always end up with more. Filled with the stuff until they threaten to burst in a flash of blinding white light.

And now time accelerates. Compensating for the original pause. Just as they understand how to be, they come to an ending of sorts. And at the end which is never an end, as the beginning was never a beginning, he holds her hand and he says the last words she will ever hear in this life. The only words that ever counted.

“I love you.”