Creative Nonfiction Romance Sad

Act 1

I remember the last time I climbed out of your car. You didn't know it would be our final kiss. We met during Mr. B’s class in the dungeon. You chased me down the long corridor to catch up and ask me to see a movie sometime. I always walked at a hurried pace, fearful of being late for class.

I fell in love with your piercing eyes and that gleeful smile. You melted my heart the first time I heard you sing Piano Man. We shared a passion for musical theatre. You were the shining star on stage. I never missed a performance.

I cherished the role of being your leading lady but my portrayal would be short-lived. Your family welcomed me with open arms. We had connected on a deeper level that went beyond teenage love. Your friends, however, disapproved. I cried inconsolably when I read the hastily scribbled note; a coward’s way to break someone’s heart.

I received another chance to prove myself and reclaim my place as leading lady to your Seymour Krellborn. Your family had moved to my neck of the woods. We still felt the energetic connection that powered our desires to live life. You conceived a plan to keep our rekindled love affair a secret. I complied, thankful to have you back, even if only on occasion.

I never knew when you'd call, a long time before cell phones. You lived close enough for me to walk. We'd head down to the basement where we kissed and fondled one another into an orgasmic frenzy. You'd drive me home after or sometimes I'd walk back. I loathed being your secret girl for too many years.

I grew tired of being the understudy, always hiding behind the curtain, waiting. You sensed the dark cloud of melancholy that hung heavy over the room. We climbed the stairs out of the basement and made our way to your bedroom. Your eyes told me you wanted to make love this time, however, your belief of sex equates to cheating on her resulted in your body not allowing it. I understood when your feelings of guilt overwhelmed your arousal leaving you unable to become fully erect.

I decided right then to take this intimacy blocker as a sign that it was time for me to move on so that you wouldn’t have to choose between me and her. You drove me home this time, completely unaware of what was about to transpire. We shared that last passionate kiss; the kind they make movies about. You looked shocked and heartbroken when I said there would be no more. I got out of the car and never looked back.

Act 2

I remember the last time I saw you in person at the mall when I came home from college during summer break. You worked at Radio Shack and didn't even know I'd been there that day. We had both gone our separate ways. You looked broken and empty and had gained weight since the car accident. I couldn’t bring myself to say hello because I didn’t want to suffer through the anguish of saying goodbye yet again.

I had gone to the salon to get my hair cut and hated how awful a job the stylist had done. You were alone in the store. We never got the chance to go bowling at the alley downstairs. You had, however, taken me to see a cinematic masterpiece when I was your girlfriend. I’ve always thought Joe Hallenbeck to be Bruce Willis’ best performance.

I’d often wondered where life had taken you after seeing you in the hospital. You awoke from a coma to find an angel had come to visit. We gingerly embraced, both because of the injuries and of course because she was there too. You couldn’t believe your eyes. I couldn’t believe my heart still ached so much for your love.

I hadn’t expected to see you when I went to the mall that day. You had no idea my love for you had never faded. We drifted farther and farther apart as time quickly slipped away. You continued your search for happiness safely close to home with a few beautiful successes but many more failures. I traveled the world on my search as I struggled to feel the electricity your passion had brought to my life.

Act 3

I remember the last time I spoke to you on the phone. You'll never know why I had to stop taking your calls or why I never called you anymore. We had reconnected after 25 long years of distant separation. You’d spent time chasing my memory instead of fulfilling the life you’d chosen to live. I had spent my time pleasing everyone else and had finally found my happiness.

I’ll never forget seeing the notification of your connection request while I mindlessly scrolled through the newsfeed on my phone. You got scared when I replied almost immediately as you hadn’t planned what to say. We casually chatted about where our lives had taken us. Your road had been so much harder on you. I’d made my own mistakes but had found my path to fulfillment.

I should have seen the signs early on but I wanted us so badly that I ignored the lies at first. You kept me in the dark about the severity of your health, fearful I wouldn’t love you. We talked about wedding plans and starting a karaoke food truck. Your drinking still had its destructive grip on you making it difficult to keep a job for long. I tried so hard to give you strength and reassurance but that only emboldened your lying.

I knew my Prince Charming truly was just a fairytale the day you blamed your failure on me. You had lost another job. We had spent much of our days texting since we still lived so far apart. You got fired for checking your phone after being warned a number of times. I stayed silent, seething with anger when you casually told me it was my fault.

I continued to communicate only through texting because I couldn’t find the words to tell you I had given up. You probably could tell things were falling apart. We had so many great ideas that will never come to fruition. You wanted to get married on the stage of our high school’s phenomenal theatre. I wanted just one chance to be your forever after.


I didn't want to be the villain in our dramatic life. You wanted perfection so badly that reality drove you back into the comfort of being the victim. We needed each other at those various moments in time. You believed only I could bring the sun into your world. I merely wanted your devotion and encouraging support.

I still have the final text conversation I had with your sister. Your friend had already messaged me that you had died early that Thursday morning. We had spent so much time talking about the craziness of the world around us. Your final lie to me about whether you got the shot may be what killed you. I'll have to live forever knowing that you may have died from me breaking your heart.

April 07, 2022 03:06

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