A Short Story

He finally realized that she was gone and would never come back; and it was only with this realization that he fully realized just how much he loved her. When she was around he had always taken her for granted. She had always been nothing more than a good friend and confidant--some one he could actually open his heart to--and he told himself that he didn't want anything more. Hell, he had even managed to completely convince himself for several years that he didn't want anything more from her. But now...now it just hurt so damned bad not having her around.

His childhood had been a rather loveless one. When anyone did happen to pay any attention to him, it was because they were drunk and looking for something to hit, or they were simply pissed off and wanted to belittle someone. Most of the time, however, he was simply left to fend for himself. Now in retrospect, this had actually strengthend him to a great degree--as a man he was able to stand just about any beating life through at him: He had a brutal job which left him in the hospital about once every two years, he had managed to disillusion himself of all the nonsense most people cling to so desperately, and he had even managed, at the age of sixteen, to move two-thousand miles away from his friends and family to start a new life on his own. The one thing he could not seem to do, was to admit that he loved someone. That, in his mind, would amount to opening himself back up to the ridicule and the beatings of his childhood.

Later in life, he had a few failed relationships. The first of these was actually with the girl he missed so much now. He had tried everything in his power to get her, but in the end it amouted to nothing but rejection. After that, all his relationships ended with the girls he thought he was in love with telling him to go to hell.

Finally, after years apart, he had been reunited with his first love. By now though, she was married to one of his friends. But that was ok, because all he wanted now was someone to talk to. So they stuck up a new friendship. Eventually she divorced his friend, but nothing really changed in his relationship to her. For a few years after that they lived together, neither of them seeing anybody else, but not seeing each other either. After a few years of this, she married another friend of his; this time it was his best friend.

Four years went by. He would go to their house once or twice a week for dinner during this time. His best friend was seldom home during all of this, and when he was he was too drunk to talk, and so he would have long drawn out conversations with her about everything from politics to religion to music. Throughout this time nothing ever became of this, as both of them had complete respect for the sanctaty of her marriage.

At the end of this four year period she had kicked her husband out; it turned out that he had been an abusive piece of shit; getting drunk every night and beating her and her five year old child. One night she came over to his house to talk about what was going on. They ended up getting really drunk. At some point during the night, she kissed him. At this point he could not hold back--he professed his love for her, and that night they made sweet, passionate love. Their love, however, was rather short lived.

The next day he was overcome by guilt. It didn't matter that his friend was a piece of shit--to betray their friendship was more than he could bear. The next day he told her that it had to end there. This was something she could not seem to comply with. The next few weeks were hell for both of them. He lied and said that it meant nothing to him; she refused this answer. It went back and forth: her forcing herself upon him, him forcing himself to believe he wanted nonthing of it, yet winding up in bed with her all the same.

In the end he won out. Though he wasn't exactly sure what it was he won. Did he when his freedom, or was it simply his solitude? All he knew now was that he wanted her back. But it was too damn late.