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chavos · 10-07-2003, 01:16 PM

A short story, about love that is never known.

He ran his fingers through her thin hair, and smiled. Sitting with her on his lap in the den, he was surrounded by that which he loved most. The shelves held all the books he had read in his career, the honors and degrees from Yale and Harvard framed on the wall. He took great pride in what he had done with his mind, but it paled in comparison to the overwhelming love he felt for the helpless child that he now held. He gave her a slight peck on the crown of he skull, and savored the warmth of her breath on his arm. She rolled her head back on to his shoulder, still caught in a deep sleep. He leaned back in the overstuffed chair, and resolved to rest a little himself.

He awoke with urgent concern, but with almost no motion in his body. Acutely aware of how heavy her head felt on his neck, and how he could barely feel himself at all. His mind began to spin and turn black. He strained forward, but moving imperceptibly, thinking only one thought.

“I love this child.”

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Connie looked down the hall towards where her mother was. She could catch the anger in her mother’s voice, and decided to ignore it. She knew why she was in trouble. Her grades had arrived, and they were not all A’s. There was a solitary B, resting on the paper next to the crease, a few centimeters to the right of the words “Physical Education.” There was not a single expectation her mother didn’t have it seemed. Connie took a deep breath, and began to walk down the hall, unsure of where she was headed, except to not approach her mother. The screaming grew louder, but she ducked in to the den to avoid the noise. Her father was sitting there, in the same grey chair as he always did. His eyes looked out over the shelves, and the dust settling in upon them. Connie regarded all the volumes, pictures and things in the room. They gave a portrait of an active man, who lived a life of the mind and success. Connie loved that man. But he was dead. Gone since the accident so many years ago before she could remember, he had been replaced by the vegetative thing sitting in the chair. She had no feelings one way or the other. He was simply there, and yet so powerfully gone.

Her mother broke the silence.

“There you are! I’ve been…”

She was broken off by Connie, who had reached a point of despair and anger. “Tell me what happened to dad. Tell me why it makes you so angry about everything.”

Her mother stammered. “I just don’t think that I can tell you.”

“No more bull shit. Tell me. Tell me why there are always rumors and whispers. Tell me what happened.” Connie put every hardness in to her words that she could find.

Off balance and stunned, her mother spoke softly. “you have to understand, you were very young. Not more than a year and half. Your father was putting you to sleep, and…”

Connie leaned in to the silence, pushing on her mother to continue.

“Both of you must have fallen asleep, with your head resting on his neck. The doctors, they said it must have cut off the blood from his brain, and that there was no way to bring him back.”

Her words speeding up now, and interjected with sobs, she went on.

“its not your fault…you have to know, it’s not your fault.” Her head fell in to her hands, and she simply cried.

Connie felt as if she had been shot. “why?…what?”

Through her mother’s hands, came the muffled closure. “I just wanted you to be able to live like he had.”

Connie turned to her father’s face. It was empty and flat, as it had always been in her memory. She tried to see something, but couldn’t. She had destroyed him, she had killed the father she loved. The shame, pain, and guilt swept over her, and she fell to her knees as her legs failed. The tears raced down her face, slightly cold on her cheeks from the breeze, as she tried to form words, but only had sobs to match her mothers. Finally, she reached out and put her arms behind her father. His arms slowly came around her, and squeezed just a little too hard, like they always would. Her mind registered alarm for a moment, but she only thought one thing.

“I love this man.”

10-07-2003, 01:16 PM	#1 (permalink)
chavos Banned Location: St. Paul, MN	I Love A short story, about love that is never known. He ran his fingers through her thin hair, and smiled. Sitting with her on his lap in the den, he was surrounded by that which he loved most. The shelves held all the books he had read in his career, the honors and degrees from Yale and Harvard framed on the wall. He took great pride in what he had done with his mind, but it paled in comparison to the overwhelming love he felt for the helpless child that he now held. He gave her a slight peck on the crown of he skull, and savored the warmth of her breath on his arm. She rolled her head back on to his shoulder, still caught in a deep sleep. He leaned back in the overstuffed chair, and resolved to rest a little himself. He awoke with urgent concern, but with almost no motion in his body. Acutely aware of how heavy her head felt on his neck, and how he could barely feel himself at all. His mind began to spin and turn black. He strained forward, but moving imperceptibly, thinking only one thought. “I love this child.” ——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— Connie looked down the hall towards where her mother was. She could catch the anger in her mother’s voice, and decided to ignore it. She knew why she was in trouble. Her grades had arrived, and they were not all A’s. There was a solitary B, resting on the paper next to the crease, a few centimeters to the right of the words “Physical Education.” There was not a single expectation her mother didn’t have it seemed. Connie took a deep breath, and began to walk down the hall, unsure of where she was headed, except to not approach her mother. The screaming grew louder, but she ducked in to the den to avoid the noise. Her father was sitting there, in the same grey chair as he always did. His eyes looked out over the shelves, and the dust settling in upon them. Connie regarded all the volumes, pictures and things in the room. They gave a portrait of an active man, who lived a life of the mind and success. Connie loved that man. But he was dead. Gone since the accident so many years ago before she could remember, he had been replaced by the vegetative thing sitting in the chair. She had no feelings one way or the other. He was simply there, and yet so powerfully gone. Her mother broke the silence. “There you are! I’ve been…” She was broken off by Connie, who had reached a point of despair and anger. “Tell me what happened to dad. Tell me why it makes you so angry about everything.” Her mother stammered. “I just don’t think that I can tell you.” “No more bull shit. Tell me. Tell me why there are always rumors and whispers. Tell me what happened.” Connie put every hardness in to her words that she could find. Off balance and stunned, her mother spoke softly. “you have to understand, you were very young. Not more than a year and half. Your father was putting you to sleep, and…” Connie leaned in to the silence, pushing on her mother to continue. “Both of you must have fallen asleep, with your head resting on his neck. The doctors, they said it must have cut off the blood from his brain, and that there was no way to bring him back.” Her words speeding up now, and interjected with sobs, she went on. “its not your fault…you have to know, it’s not your fault.” Her head fell in to her hands, and she simply cried. Connie felt as if she had been shot. “why?…what?” Through her mother’s hands, came the muffled closure. “I just wanted you to be able to live like he had.” Connie turned to her father’s face. It was empty and flat, as it had always been in her memory. She tried to see something, but couldn’t. She had destroyed him, she had killed the father she loved. The shame, pain, and guilt swept over her, and she fell to her knees as her legs failed. The tears raced down her face, slightly cold on her cheeks from the breeze, as she tried to form words, but only had sobs to match her mothers. Finally, she reached out and put her arms behind her father. His arms slowly came around her, and squeezed just a little too hard, like they always would. Her mind registered alarm for a moment, but she only thought one thing. “I love this man.”