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Monday, February 10, 2014

A story wasted ::



I recently threw out a story I had written a long time ago :: 

They say that every story is a mirror of the writer, of their feelings and their own torments at that time. This one was a glimpse into that moment of my life ... but it's no longer relevant and it's what we do. We create and we destroy. 
But I could not let some of my favorite passages be lost forever. So I kept them ...  here in the pages of nowhere and nothing. I kept them for you to read but mostly because they remind me of times gone by.

Passage 1:s

" There was a sense or urgency, not because they wanted it to end, but because they were so eager, so longing, so wanting. Because they wanted in each hungry kiss, in each yearning caress to bridge the gap of all that had happened, of the time apart, they wanted with ever tingle of pleasure to lock out the world, society, what would happened tomorrow.
Anna didn’t doubt it once, she had been hoping this would happen, she didn’t even think of Josh until she was dressing.

“Oh Anna, do you regret it?” her lover asked.
“Today?” Anna questioned unsure
“Everything”
Anna shook her head, “It’s the best thing that has happened to me, it has made me who I am. I live because I love you.”
“And Josh?" they asked.
“I love him too, he is kind and gentle, he loves me, he wants me to be the mother of his children, he forgave me about you, he is willing to share his name and money with me, I love him I do” she said looking away, “but as hard as I tried I don’t love him as much as you, I don’t love him as intensely as you, as passionately as you. When I’m with him I think of you but when I’m with you I never think of him”

“I love you too, I will always love you” Rain said
“Say it, ask me to stay, tell me not to marry.” Anna pleaded
“I can’t you have to go and live your life”
“Kiss me goodbye” Anna said.
“But Ill see you tomorrow”Rain answered.
“Yes, but tomorrow I won’t be yours anymore, tomorrow I will be no ones”
“No your wrong, you will always be mine, always my little Anahi, “ Rain assured her.



Passage 2:

“How dare she do this,” it was more than reproach, she threw the letter on the parlor table. there were tears in her eyes with one hand swipe all the decorations on the table fell to the floor. They made a terrible clatter, she tipped the large flower vase and walked slowly to the couch. She was so overwhelmed, nothing made sense. She poured a shot of scotch, then another one. The liquid burned as it was going down. She could not stop crying, the worst part was that she understood, completely.
“I hope your heart breaks,” she told Anna when the time came to confront her. Anna stood motionless, resting on the black gate that led to her grandmothers drive way.
“But I understand how much a promise can weight”.
“My heart is broken,” she said softly, “because it still loves you”
“I know” Rain anwered.
Anna extened her hand and opened her palm. In it rested the diamond ring Rain had given her many moons ago.
She took it, softly and smiled.
“I love y..” the words trailed off. Anna was hushed by a silent and tender embrace from her former lover. It was short, gentle and pristine.
Anna wanted to take it back, take it all back. The promise, the pact, the letter it hurt too much, it was as if someone was tearing her heart apart.
There was not time to talk, Rain kissed her on the cheek, “take care” she said and walked away. She didn’t turn back, it took her strongest will to keep looking forward, she let the ring slip onto the ground after a few blocks. It made a small clink, perhaps it would make someone happier." 


Passage 3:
Guinevere went away to study, when she came back her fiery red hair, had become burgundy and her mischievous eyes had become peaceful.“I want to dedicate my life to God,” she told her family.
“How so?” Anna asked not imagining the answer.
“I have joined a convent” she said smiling
Elena took in some air.
“You have?” her mother asked.
“Yes, I have.”
“Well if it’s true, you must learn to forgive first you must talk to your mother” she said refer-in to Guinevers other mother, Rain.
“You are my mother” Guinevere argued.
She joined the sisters, Guinevere was a complicated name, and so she took the quisentenial name of Therese just like Therese of liseux, like Teressa de Avila, like Mother Theresa. Like the patron saints of an ageless church Guinevere seemed to be redeeming a sin that was not hers.



Her mother Anna, who was still a beautiful lady, became a good Catholic. She always wore black, and her dark long hair got lost at times, she wore no jewelery and as she crossed herself in mass every sunday a single pendant sparkled. A cross, given to her by her grandmother many years ago.
She visited Guinevere often, until the years took their toll and she preferred to stay home, looking out the veranda onto a city that had seen her grow up. She sat there rosary in her hand, shawl around her shoulders, tea on the table, just like her mother and grandmother had once sat, looking onto the Mexico of their memoirs.

“Fate is cruel,” she told Guinevere once, “it’s funny that after all that rebelling, after all those years and all those sins, I would be here a fervent devotee just like my mother”
“God always reclaims his lost children” Guinevere answered.
“But you know, I still love her, and I hope God will forgive me”
“He always does” Guinevere said again.
“And you should too,” Anna pressed, “Go visit Rain, forgive her”
Guinevere shook her head, it wasn’t until Jessica died that she called her mother.
She had to, no one else would.
“She overdosed,” was the simple answer she gave when Rain asked.

“I’m coming” Rain said.
“We expected you to, Anna will be here for the funeral only.”
Nothing was planned, and yet the two ex-lovers did not meet.
Guinevere extended her hand to her own mother, “you can call me Therese now”
“Theresse,” Tatiana repeated the name softly, rolling the s in her tongue, “what a beautiful name”
“Thank you”
As she turned to walk away, Rain called out, “Wait!”
Guinevere turned.
“Can I hug you”
Guinever hesitated, Elena was coming in the distance.
She nodded.
Rain did so, she hugged her, a mothers embrace. She held her tight, tears rolling out of her  closed eyes. Then she kissed her daughters cheek.
“I’m sorry,” Guinevere whispered.
“For what?” Rain asked, “I understand, I understand it all.”
Guinevere gave a slight nod and kissed Rain on the cheek.
“I never read your cards” Guinevere confessed.
“I know” she said.
“I never even opened them”
“Hush” Rain hushed her daughter and nothing was changed. That afternoon after the funeral Guinevere returned to Anna’s home, with Elena and they sat quietly sharing a cup of tea, reminiscing in their memories, holding back the tears.

They never talked again.





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