One Page Love Story- Share the Love

by Rich Walls et al.

  But they missed one another terribly.

  They typed it, asking if the other missed them.

  They talked about what they would do together when they finally would see one another…even though they both knew the visit wasn’t coming soon.

  They acted like it was around the corner.

  They praised technology for letting them stay in touch, to feel like they were there with one another doing their favorite things.

  Drinking wine.

  Dancing.

  Talking about their dreams.

  Sharing their feelings.

  They called one another nicknames, and made up new ones.

  They made more plans.

  They cherished those plans.

  And they both anxiously awaited the next time they could do it all in person.

  That’s love.

  That’s friendship.

  IN AWE OF HER STRENGTH

  He was in love with her.

  And that’s one of the reasons this situation was so difficult.

  He was there when she received the first phone call.

  She cried, he held her. He didn’t know what else to do.

  Days, weeks, months went by. Things only got worse.

  He watched her stay calm. He was in awe of her strength.

  He had never experienced what she was going through.

  She wanted him to meet her, before the inevitable. She thought it would make her happy.

  He was scared, but he would do anything for his love.

  They arrived at the hospital. They slowly and nervously put on yellow surgical gowns and gloves.

  She went in first, he slowly followed.

  He watched his love walk right up to the hospital bed, so close.

  He was in awe of her strength.

  He watched her talk, laugh, reminisce, read lips, and keep the conversation going.

  She introduced the woman in the hospital bed to him. He didn’t know what to say. The woman lit up, and said, “You’re so handsome! You like an actor…”

  He smiled.

  Everyone in the room laughed.

  She continued to stay strong, even as she read the woman’s lips saying, “I’m so proud of you” with tears in her eyes.

  It was time to go.

  He was shaken up. Sad. He was in awe of her strength.

  “How did you do that?”

  “I don’t have any other choice.”

  “You’re so much stronger than me.”

  He was in love with her. And he vowed to continue to give her all of his love, forever.

  FAITH

  She was in pain.

  She wanted this to be over, but at the same time she wished it wasn’t happening.

  Regret.

  I should have done more.

  Guilt.

  If only I…

  Denial.

  This isn’t real.

  Anger.

  Damnit, why??!!

  Sadness.

  …

  She wanted to go back in time.

  Any semblance of faith she had disappeared.

  “It’s almost over,” she thought as the black limousine weaved through the New York City streets, following the hearse.

  They arrived at the cemetery.

  She stared at the casket and open earth. Her heart was growing.

  A sense of peace came over her. She didn’t know why.

  She stared at the tombstone. Reading it intentionally.

  “Are my grandmother and grandfather in this same place?” She asked the priest.

  “Yes, they are.”

  She kept staring. The pain was disappearing. She even tried to peak down into the broken ground. She felt like a little kid.

  “You can’t see the caskets as they are each covered by layers of earth, but they are there. They will be reunited.”

  She exhaled. He wouldn’t be alone.

  That calmed her down…her grandparents and her uncle being in the same place.

  The priest’s words restored a bit of her faith.

  That dark, scary day turned into love.

  YOU

  It took her years to get to this place. Four years and five months to be exact. She had everything she wanted. She was an inspiration. She changed people’s lives. She changed her own life.

  This was the interview that was going to catapult her career to the next level.

  She was nervous, but was able to center herself before the cameras went live.

  She didn’t prepare. She was barely listening to her famous interviewer.

  “When did I realize it?”

  “Yes, when did you realize you felt this way? What changed?”

  She had never answered this question before, but she knew how to respond.

  “I was walking. Looking at the beauty around me. My body had never felt so at peace. I was whole. I didn’t realize that until later, but I felt whole. I had nothing to worry about. Nothing to think about. I only appreciated.

  “I welcomed what I had gone through; the mistakes and the triumphs, the heartbreak and the love, the tears and the laughter, the disappointment and the celebration, the busy days and the days of nothing. I let things go. I let my life flow. I stopped trying to control other people. I stopped caring.

  “I stopped caring about how successful I would be, where the money would come from, what my love life would look like, if people would like me…

  “When you stop caring if people like you, when you stop giving a crap about how you’re perceived, when you stop worrying constantly about everything…When you allow yourself to finally be you, to wear what you want, say what you want, live how you want, stand up for what you want, and actually truly start being nice to yourself…then you find it. You find everything you were looking for. You find your partner, you find your dream career, you find yourself.

  “That is how you know. That is how you realize…that you love yourself.”

  THE DREAM

  I’m scared.

  Scared of calling you my boyfriend. Scared of getting hurt.

  Even though I’ve been so open and enjoying every moment of this, when I use that word…boyfriend…it seems so…definite.

  Having a boyfriend means that one day you could say that you no longer want to be my boyfriend.

  Ha, can you tell I’ve been scarred?

  I know there are risks. I have already taken them because I’m emotionally invested in you.

  I’m worried you will leave. That one day you will tell me you are moving, not us. Then, I wouldn’t have mattered at all to you.

  I know you’re different, but I’m still hesitant because I don’t know what you want.

  Are you looking for someone to be with right now?

  Someone to potentially see a future with?

  Do you think about that stuff?

  I’m not looking for kids. I’m not looking to get married right away.

  I just don’t want to be involved with someone who isn’t going to take me seriously. I want to be with someone who is open to the future possibilities.

  I don’t want to waste my time.

  I want to know we are on the same page.

  I like being with you.

  I am curious to see where it goes.

  I know we can’t predict the future. We don’t know what will happen. Jobs happen. Life happens. I guess I’m just scared that you won’t take me as seriously as I take you.

  I know I’m making up a lot of this in my head. I realize this. Your actions have shown me who you are, how you are, and how much you want to be with me. But when we talked about our status together, I couldn’t help but think about our future.

  It’s a bigger deal now. Or no? Maybe that’s in my head. You tell me.

  “…I’m in this for the dream.”

  GARY LIME

  Gary Lime is a Pisces.

  ASTERN PROPULSION

  Waiting room.

  Waiting.

  It’s a bad idea.

&nb
sp; He knows it.

  He should have spoke up about it.

  He tells himself he did.

  He knows he didn’t.

  Now he’s here.

  Waiting.

  “It’s not fear of becoming a parent,” he’d say to his friends.

  But he didn’t say that to his friends.

  He didn’t say anything.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears the answer.

  He tosses it away.

  If he had to be completely honest—that was the problem.

  He hadn’t been completely honest, he’s still trying to be, even here, waiting.

  Waiting.

  She isn’t the one.

  He knows it—she knows it too.

  That’s why she asked him to sit out here, instead of in there with her.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  They were supposed to play around, fool around, then move on.

  Now he’s stuck here.

  Waiting.

  They talked about it, just not the way they were supposed to.

  So they both kept the lie up, for each other, until it was too late.

  He sighs.

  At some point it’ll come to a head.

  Years from now, the three of them, life in tatters, will finally have that moment.

  Two lives spent, and another made, without that truth.

  He knows that will become his life.

  In his mind, he can hear someone, someone saying the answer.

  He turns away, ignoring it.

  She isn’t the one, but more importantly, he isn’t the one.

  He doesn’t deserve to be here.

  He hasn’t earned the right to be waiting.

  Now he can’t stop hearing his father, in his mind, telling him the answer.

  “You ain’t afraid of becoming a parent. You’re afraid of becoming a man.”

  This repeats in his mind until the doctor approaches.

  “There’s been some complications.”

  ALDA

  James Rhodes got out of bed. He did so carefully, as he always did, so as to not wake Sylvia. He walked out of the bedroom on the balls of his feet, down the hall to the bathroom.

  He had a morning routine, developed over the ten years of their marriage. It was a routine that required him to get up at 4 A.M. and perform several particular tasks, in particular succession. But none of them happened until he took his shower. “I’ll be damned if I’m doing anything for anybody before I take a shower.” James would mutter, oblivious to the fact this routine was not only self-inflicted, but that the shower was indeed part of it.

  Waiting for the water to get warm, he saw himself in the mirror. James saw himself as he really was. This was not part of the morning routine. He saw the curved slouch of his shoulders and the droop of his head, the cave that was once his chest. It was something he had never seen before. He was healthy, ate the right foods, ran and worked out, but all of that fell in line behind the slouch. The slouch, new yet permanent, took nearly five inches off his 6'4" frame. What had happened?

  The hot water was taking its time. To pull himself from the mirror, he went over the morning routine.

  After the shower, he would go downstairs. He’d put the coffeemaker on its slowest setting—two hours before the first cup would be ready. He’d make sure there was food for the day—lunch and dinner—or race to the 24-hour store and come up with something. He wouldn’t pick up the clothes he left in the living room, despite Sylvia’s complaints. James knew Sylvia secretly liked complaining about how messy he was. He’d double check the car out front. He’d find the glasses, keys and phone, then put them on the table. He’d do a quick load of laundry, ironing if need be. He’d text Sylvia anything pertinent to the day. He’d find out the scores of last night’s west coast games. Then he would get on the balls of his feet again and carefully get back into bed. If all went to plan, he would be laying down by 6:30.

  But the water was still tepid, and the discovery of this slouch still had his mind. What had happened?

  Then James Rhodes had his waking thought of the morning.

  Sylvia was 5' 2".

  James Rhodes smiled.

  The water got warmer.

  In a few hours, Sylvia would wake up. She’d have coffee, pack a lunch for work and figure out dinner. She’d put on the work clothes she left in the laundry room. She’d grab her glasses, keys and phone from the table. She’d read a text from James, reminding her to call the electric company.

  JOYCE

  Oh, just to look at him. Oh, everything about him. His eyes, his stare, the way he moves, it’s like nothing ever bothers him. No, that’s not what it’s like, it’s like slow motion. No, it’s not slow motion, it’s like slow motion. Like, everything else is moving at this certain speed, or this certain tempo, and he’s just moving at this completely different tempo, this completely slower tempo. So when he moves, nobody else sees him. But he sees everybody else move. Which is weird, ’cause if he’s the one moving slower, it should be the opposite then. Everyone should be able to see him and he shouldn’t be able to see anybody, just a blur. Maybe it’s like a cosmic, space thing. I’ll have to ask Mrs. Crafton next class. Aren’t there things in space that move slow but can see everything as well as things that move fast? Or in the ocean! Yeah, in the ocean, that makes sense. There’s slow-moving fish, they have to be able to see things as well as big-moving fish, otherwise they all would have been eaten by now. That’s like, Darwin. Yeah, that’s what he is. He’s advanced. That’s why he moves slow, because he can see things. He doesn’t have to hurry. Like the other day, when fourth period ended, everybody else raced to lunch. But he didn’t. He just got up, pushed his chair in and got his things. Then, by the time I got to the cafeteria, he was already there! He didn’t have to rush. He can take his time. Yeah. He takes his time. And his hands, his hands are sooo nice. They’re soft, but not soft—smooth. They’re smooth. Well, they look smooth. I guess I’d have to touch his hands to know if they’re smooth. But they look smooth. Oh, they look nice. Oh, I just want to touch him. I just want him to touch me. I want him to stand in front of me at the lockers and touch my face—or brush my hair behind my ear. I want him to hold my hand—not even that, I want him to reach out and hold my hand. Like, we’re walking down the hall to class, and he’s just standing next to me and we’re like, walking together. And he’s trying not to notice me, and I’m trying not to notice him, but we’re both noticing each other. And then he just reaches over and takes my hand. He just reaches over and takes my hand. He reaches over and he takes my hand.

  IF THE LAST ONE’S P AND THE NEXT ONE’S R…

  “Hi.” “…Hi.” “I’m…” “I mean hi.” “Oh, hi, I’m sorry I…” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” “Oh, I’m sorry.” “No, I meant to…” “Oh. I’m…” “I mean I didn’t mean to…” “I’m sorry.” “No, I mean…” “Oh.” “I MEAN I DIDN’T MEAN TO INTERRUPT YOU. I MEANT TO STOP AND LET YOU FINISH.” “…Oh.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. I’m…” “And I…” “Oh.” “Damn it! And I meant to say I know who you are.” “Oh.” “Yeah. I’ve seen you around.” “I’ve seen you.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. Around.” “Oh.” “And I…” “You…” “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” “No, it was me. I didn’t mean to…” “You can go ahead.” “No, I meant I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” “Oh.” “I wanted to hear what you were going to say.” “Oh.” “So?” “So?” “So what were you going to say?” “Oh. I was going to say I’ve seen you around. And I like what I see.” “Oh.” “I…” “Yeah?” “I was going to ask you…” “Yeah?” “Oh.” “Oh?” “Yeah.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. I didn’t mean to…” “No!” “No?” “I mean…” “Oh.” “No!” “No?” “I mean…” “Oh.” “DAMN IT! I MEAN ‘No,’ not ‘No!”’ “Oh. Well now I’m confused.” “I’m sorry, I…” “No, it’s okay, I…” “Oh.” “Can I start over?” “Yes. Please.” “I was going to ask you…” “Yeah?
” “Oh.” “No! I mean, you stopped.” “Oh.” “Yeah.” “Oh!” “Yeah!” “So you mean…” “Yeah…” “Oh.” “I wanted to hear what you were going to ask.” “Oh. So I was going to ask you…” “Yeah?” “Oh. Oh! Right! Yeah.” “Yeah.” “Yeah. I was going to ask you if your boyfriend always lets you walk around by yourself.” “No.” “Oh. ’cause every time I see you…” “No.” “Oh.” “I mean ‘No!”’ “Oh.” “Yeah.” “Um.” “No.” “Oh. It must just be when I see you then.” “No.” “It’s not?” “No.” “But? Oh.” “No!” “But then he…” “I don’t have a boyfriend.” “Oh. Oh!” “That’s what I meant when I said…” “Yeah.” “Yeah.” “Oh.” “I don’t have a boyfriend, so he can’t…” “Yeah.” “Yeah.” “So…” “So?” “So I, wait so? You…” “No, I was…” “No, what were you…” “I was just…” “Yeah?” “I…” “Yeah?” “I was just going to ask…” “Yeah?” “Why did you want to know about my boyfriend?” “I didn’t.” “Oh.” “No.” “Oh.” “No, I meant—how did you put it?—I meant ‘No!’ not ‘No.”’ “Oh.” “I didn’t want to know about your boyfriend. I wanted to know if you had a…” “Oh.” “So…” “So why?” “Why?” “Why did you want to know if I had a boyfriend?” “Well, ’cause I was gonna go…” “Go?” “Yeah.” “Oh.” “No. Damn it, ‘No!”’ “Oh.” “I was gonna go to this…” “Yeah?” “This thing…” “Yeah.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “So…” “Yeah?” “You want to…” “Yeah.” “I mean, do you want to go?” “Yeah.” “No, I mean, with…” “No…” “Oh.” “No! I mean, No, I know what you mean.” “Oh?” “Yeah.” “Oh.” “So…” “So, do you want to go, with me?” “Yeah.” “Oh.” “Yeah.” “Yeah.”