We're Getting Married, Remember?

Lately, I've been inspired to write by prompts and quotes popping up in my Facebook newsfeed. It forces me to think specifically, rather than agonize over a brainstorming session, or ponderance of What should I write today? Today, when I got home from work, this is what popped up in my newsfeed from Writers Write:

After the Stephen King- inspired post about my worst fears, writing about this sort of brings down the mood of my blog lately, but when inspiration calls the writer must listen. At one time I was almost as fearful of the episode that follows as I was with a reoccurance of the Holocaust. WIth age and security this is no longer a fear, but it did wake me into actual tears and heartache about 20 years ago. To be truthful, as most writers do, I embellished for the sake of interest.

We're Getting Married, Remember?

"Please say it's not true," I pleaded with him. 

"I'm sorry." He looked at me pathetically, probably hoping I'd run away crying. But I didn't. I was stunned. A shock to my system. A love song cliche. An arrow through my heart. We had worked so hard to fight the odds, and come out ahead. We loved each other through so much, I wondered how this could be happening. 

"I didn't mean for it to happen." More cliches, one after the other. "I wasn't looking for anyone else, it just happened. You can't control what your heart feels." Was he serious? I wanted to throw up. Dare I say it, I wanted to die. I always thought I had the upper hand, that if he cheated on me or left me, that I would be angry and spiteful. But that wasn't the case. I felt like a wounded and desperate child.

Not concerned with how it would appear or my strong independent persona, I asked him what I could do to get him to stay. It was an out-of-body experience. I never expected to beg a man to love me. My mother wouldn't have it, and I wouldn't dream of it. Or would I? I fought back the tears, choking on my words, "I love you. I know that you love me too." As if I wasn't in enough pain already, the creases in his forehead deepened, and the corners of his thick dark eyebrows lowered. 

"Ill always care deeply about you, but I'm just not in love with you anymore." I fell to the floor in bellowing sobs, my heart pumped so powerfully I could feel my pulse in my ears. My inner being personified heartache and I lost my breath with the emotional blow to my gutt. I felt like I was drowning, falling without breath to the bottom of the dark ocean floor..

I woke with swollen eyes, and pain in my chest. I was coughing and crying as though the dream had seemlessly become reality, and everything was blurry. I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. I looked all around me and realized I had spent the night in my friend's apartment, a frequent retreat from my own because I really didn't like my roommate. I still didn't know what happened. I tried my best to swallow the tears and stop crying. I had to know if the conversation was real. I had to know if he was really leaving me. I picked up the phone and called him. He answered and I didn't say anything. "Hello?" he questioned the silence. 

"Hi," I responded tentatively, fearful of what would come next. "You still sleeping?" I asked.

"Not anymore." I sighed and began crying uncontrollably. I tried to explain why, but my words were disjointed and incoherent between the blubbering. "What in the world happened? What's wrong? Where are you?" he asked.

"I'm at Tracie's, we hung out after class and I slept here last night. I had this awful nightmare...wait."

"Wait for what? Are you ok? I'm sorry I missed your call last night. I worked late and then crashed."

"It was awful, I explained. It felt so real. Tell me you love me."

"Of course I love you. We're getting maried, remember?"