Then one morning everything changed.
He couldn't have said if any one thing prompted it, just that the emotion had slowly overcome him, slowly rotted out the golden. Perhaps he had been wrong to keep it to himself and not discuss it with Rona. Perhaps he thought it was a phase that would pass. As his wedding day grew closer he found his anxiety over it immense. He thought, well, he thought he should have been blindingly happy. He thought that if anything was ever going to make him gabby that this would have been it.
Years ago. Maybe eight. Maybe nine. He recalled an early Autumn day where he thought he was going to be married but she never came.
The closer Sunday came the more he imagined her not showing up, not arriving and disappearing into that great chaos that was the world. Rona had done nothing to warrant his growing distrust, his growing hurt and he could not justify why it was now that it mounted so heavily on his heart. It had been mounting, over the days and weeks and he had forced himself to remain calm and confident. All day long he could make himself feel and be as he needed but when he laid down at night the cold truth remained: faith was gone and he didn't know how to mend it.
He didn't know if it was his fault or if certain wounds festered. He didn't know if he could ever have a love with anyone like he had with Rona. What he did know is that she was above his suspicion, his concern and distrust. That where they were today was changed by his lack of change, not her's. How much of her was different from when they had met and how much of him was altered in only subtle nuances" Was it only possible to love a creature who had changed only if you had gone through change yourself" He feared losing her forever. He feared resenting her for no reason he could explain.
When he sat up from bed he thought about how she was. A gypsy creature of ribbons and love, of beauty and survival. What was she doing here, with him' The old soldier that guards the door, counts the hours down with slow breaths and still feels a deep, ingrained sense of shame and pride" Perhaps it was that shame, that old teaching in his mind prevailing. That he should not marry.That he should never take a wife and have a child. Was it hard to shake those fundamental years" Was this all just him reacting to the brainwashed soldier-rearing of his youth and even if he knew it, couldn't help but act on it' Couldn't fight the sense that what he was doing was wrong because some old, sticky man thousands of miles away, dead in his grave, had told him so?
"Rona." He was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking over his shoulder at her in the morning. Eyebrows arched up and he wanted to open up his mouth and tell her everything, everything on his mind. That he wished Sunday had been that Autumn day eight years ago, when fear and anxiety hadn't ruled hie heart. When their relationship seemed so much simpler than what it was now. His exhale when he spoke.
"I think I should go."
He couldn't have said if any one thing prompted it, just that the emotion had slowly overcome him, slowly rotted out the golden. Perhaps he had been wrong to keep it to himself and not discuss it with Rona. Perhaps he thought it was a phase that would pass. As his wedding day grew closer he found his anxiety over it immense. He thought, well, he thought he should have been blindingly happy. He thought that if anything was ever going to make him gabby that this would have been it.
Years ago. Maybe eight. Maybe nine. He recalled an early Autumn day where he thought he was going to be married but she never came.
The closer Sunday came the more he imagined her not showing up, not arriving and disappearing into that great chaos that was the world. Rona had done nothing to warrant his growing distrust, his growing hurt and he could not justify why it was now that it mounted so heavily on his heart. It had been mounting, over the days and weeks and he had forced himself to remain calm and confident. All day long he could make himself feel and be as he needed but when he laid down at night the cold truth remained: faith was gone and he didn't know how to mend it.
He didn't know if it was his fault or if certain wounds festered. He didn't know if he could ever have a love with anyone like he had with Rona. What he did know is that she was above his suspicion, his concern and distrust. That where they were today was changed by his lack of change, not her's. How much of her was different from when they had met and how much of him was altered in only subtle nuances" Was it only possible to love a creature who had changed only if you had gone through change yourself" He feared losing her forever. He feared resenting her for no reason he could explain.
When he sat up from bed he thought about how she was. A gypsy creature of ribbons and love, of beauty and survival. What was she doing here, with him' The old soldier that guards the door, counts the hours down with slow breaths and still feels a deep, ingrained sense of shame and pride" Perhaps it was that shame, that old teaching in his mind prevailing. That he should not marry.That he should never take a wife and have a child. Was it hard to shake those fundamental years" Was this all just him reacting to the brainwashed soldier-rearing of his youth and even if he knew it, couldn't help but act on it' Couldn't fight the sense that what he was doing was wrong because some old, sticky man thousands of miles away, dead in his grave, had told him so?
"Rona." He was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking over his shoulder at her in the morning. Eyebrows arched up and he wanted to open up his mouth and tell her everything, everything on his mind. That he wished Sunday had been that Autumn day eight years ago, when fear and anxiety hadn't ruled hie heart. When their relationship seemed so much simpler than what it was now. His exhale when he spoke.
"I think I should go."