But where does a story start? Where does it end? After all the words have been said? Can a story unfold even if there is no one to witness it?
But it is also said that every story has two sides to it... and that is where I disagree.
For, you see, I believe that a story has as many sides as it desires in order to be told.
Now, this particular story entails with it the fate of two people: so different, and yet so alike, bound by this one fate, this universal law that dictates how one chooses to live one’s life or not... the power of hope over the emptiness of despair, the might of love over the void of loneliness.
We view this story through the vantage point of a fly; wandering around, aimlessly, until it reaches a certain place.
This was some time ago, and we see a couple walking, close to each other.
There is that physical nearness, sure, but more than that, their hearts and minds drew closer.
There is also that tension, that so natural tension of a sexual nature between these two people, for they have not yet fallen into each other’s arms.
The end of this story begins at the very beginning.
It is a summer’s day; the sweat hangs to their bodies, sweet, sickly, tantalizing.
They feel tired, and retire under the shade of a nearby tree.
He lies down on the grass, and she lays her head on his legs.
No words need be said in this perfect moment.
The girl looks admiringly to him : how could this perfect stranger, this man who up to days ago had meant absolutely nothing to her, be so close to her? How had he gotten inside her heart so quickly?
Of course, it helped that he did look good, and sure, he also had a really nice body, but that alone wasn’t enough.
There was something else... there was a quality to this man, a certain kind of quietude and tranquillity that appealed to her.
She sensed... no, she knew, that this was a good man. A Good man, with a capital G.
He saw in him, much like everyone saw on Jean Baptiste Grenouille, the most perfect man in the world.
Surely, he must be perfect... how could he not be?
And that thought nagged at her.
For there is a curious thing to perfection, a dichotomy of sorts : perfection demands perfection.
And she was anything but perfect.
She was deeply terrified of him, but only in the best way possible. In her little mind, she afforded the luxury of dreams; and she dreamt of a perfect future for the both of them, a small but spacious house, and a sort of bohemian life that they would both adore... but why? Why does she do this? Why, when she knows the terrible price that must be paid for these dreams?
Ah, if he only knew everything about her... he’d be just one more to leave her, like they all did.
But he couldn’t care less.
Fact is, he was already so enamoured with her, that nothing else mattered.
All that mattered was the moment, and it was a perfect one. Well, or near enough as makes no difference.
Silence... that’s where they were... in silent slumber, gazing adoringly at each other.
They were united states of mind... together.
She sat beside him.
Her lips got closer to his.
“No”, he said. It would not be the first time.
“Ah...”, he felt for words, but they seemed out of his reach.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to?”, she asked.
“Oh yes... yes I do. So very much. More than anything. But... not yet. There are things you should know.”
“Oh, Will, I don’t care, just give in to this moment...”
“I’m not the man you think I am”, he said.
“Marcia... I haven’t done this in a long time... the reasons for which will be apparent soon enough. And... call me crazy, call me what you will, but in my heart of hearts? I want this to be magic.”
Time flies, and so does the fly. That story got told, for better or for worse; life moved on, choices were made.
It is said that true love will out, and when it does it cannot be held back.
Ah... but human nature is a beast... and an untamable one, at that.
Weeks had passed since they were together for the last time, and it seemed to Will that entire life spans had passed, not just mere weeks.
He knew why. It was her absence… that emptiness created by her not being close by, the void that her silence provokes… it hurt. It hurt him very, very much.
She would not return his calls, nor answer his messages.
A fitting punishment, he thought, after all he had put other people through. And people are fragile things, this much he knew by now.
It was still early in the day, not yet lunch time, and so he decided to go for a long, hard jog; the physical pain it would cause might help him get his bearings straight.
That’s what he needed, to not think about anything else, to not think about her, to not think how it could’ve been if he’d only lied.
But he had changed, hadn’t he? For so long he chose what was easy over what was right… now he can’t afford to choose anything else than what is right. The minute he starts choosing what is easy again… well, he knows where that particular road leads to.
His body ached, after a hour and a half of running. He wanted to go home, and shower, and lie in bed.
And please, please, please, let me not dream of her again.
He got home, and checked his mailbox. He took the wad of letters and assorted stuff, and went up the three flights of stairs to his house.
Goddamn keys, I should get this fixed, always the same shit. Do I have to kick this door in? Ah, that’s better.
Now, let’s see what we’ve got here. Telephone bill, just great. Power. Lovely. My hearing’s just fine, thank you. Ok, no, I do not need Viagra. What’s this?
It was a letter from Marcia.
He sat down, and carefully opened it.
He began to read :
“Dear William :
I have so much that I want to say to you, that I have no idea what to say, or where to start.
I want you to know that… there is a part of me that also loves you, that deeply loves you.
But as you had the courage to tell me all about yourself… well, I’m not so brave. I fear I must do this from a distance, fighting back the tears just as I write this.
I guess we always knew how this would end, right?
I’m not a very nice person, Will, really I’m not.
And why am I not a nice person? Because…huh. Even writing about this hurts me deep inside.
I don’t think that you’ll understand what I’m going to say. Or maybe you will, I don’t know.
But can you imagine that I thought that you were the most amazing guy that I’ve ever known?
Oh God…I just… I just saw in you something that I thought I’d never see again… something in me… you made me feel so good about myself.
I’m not making any sense, am I? You must think I’m completely crazy, right?
I must be… but I’m telling you now, Will, I want you to know things about me…
Please, please, stay with me just a little while longer.
Do you know… before you…those days before you came, had been so shallow, and frivolous, and empty.
I missed myself terribly. Can one miss oneself? I don’t know, but I missed so much who I was… I miss being in love… I miss saying ‘I love you’… I miss all the little things that I never thought I’d miss.
But look at this… all these lines that I wrote, all these words that I’ve wasted… this is me getting sentimental, and we know how it always end up.
No more lies. No more half-truths. This is me.
He tore the letter in half. He couldn’t read it anymore.
In his heart, he knew it to be true. He knew what he had to do.
"What happens when you lose everything?
You just start again...
You start all over again!"
Maximo Park, Apply some pressure