The Conversation (Angst? Well, definite tissue warning anyway)Author:AnaG

Well, folks...this one-shot ain't exactly holiday material...but the musie holed up in her corner with her blankie and woe-is-me ratty slippers and this is what came out...in fair warning it involves the dreaded character death...so....

places box of tissues in the center of the room and retreats to the old writer's binker

The Conversation

There are days so striking and simple in their beauty, it almost difficult to trust they are real. When it almost easier to believe that an unseen hand had conjured the magic of an artist’s canvas or a child’s crayon box and then gently draped it over the world, hiding the grey truth behind a thin veil. Yet, they are so pristine in their perfection, we rush to accept them, these unexpected gifts discovered when we step from our homes or arrive in a familiar place to find the world transformed.

This was one of those days. The sky, a soft slate of rich blue, was marked only with the white-gold of the descending sun. Here and there, flowers touched the landscape, some with the vibrancy of jewels, others with delicate pastels. As she absently closed the car door behind her, she realized that she was grateful, that here in this place, nearing the end of this day, that there was beauty to be found.

A muted breeze carried the lingering scent of the day’s heat, and as it ruffled the leaves of nearby trees, it also softened the tension on her face and the rigid line of her shoulders.

She closed her eyes briefly, and then, with the slightest tilt of her chin, she took first one step and then another, soon finding her way with the unfocused ease of someone that had traveled these paths before. Which she had, on those milestone days – the anniversaries – that she sometimes shared with others. And also on those like today, random according to the calendar, that had held value only to the two of them.

As she approached the gray stone marker, she felt the turn of reticence in her mind, a familiar companion for every visit. But with time, with each word spoken, it was something that she had learned to accommodate. Not that it had been easy, recognizing the discomfort and clinical perspective for what it was, because that also meant making room for the sense of loss, the pain that came with the intimate knowledge of what was there beneath a blanket of sod and layers of soil. The hurt at being left behind.

In the end, the safety of denial couldn’t outweigh the need for connection, the want for answers. The comfort of memory.

So, she endured the tightness in her throat and unwelcome sting of tears that came every time she saw the letters sharply etched into the stone, the frustrating sense of unfairness that overwhelmed her every time her mind made the rapid, unbidden calculation between the two dates.

She blinked rapidly, tucked a wave of hair behind her ear, and with a deep breath, began the ritual. The placement of the flowers she had brought. Pulling a few wayward weeds, gathering them in a neat pile. Taking a moment to straighten the collection of items that had been left as remembrances. There were words waiting to be said, but these small tasks allowed her the time she needed to form them.

Finally, after brushing a smudge of dust from the marble base, she settled onto the ground, drawing up her knees as her fingers unconsciously ran through the blades of grass at her side. Looking away from the name staring at her from the stone, she began to speak.

“The first time I came here, I…I didn’t want to admit how much it hurt to be in this place, to know…to know that being here meant you were truly gone. You know, I hated it, standing there, holding those flowers, unable to think of the right words to say and…” She steadied herself with a deep breath. “…and knowing that you couldn’t, wouldn’t, answer back.”

She pressed the edge of her wrist against each eye, before turning back.

“But a friend of mine once told me…” She paused, a reluctant smile forming as she collected the memory. “He said that I should…to forget about where the words are aimed, to say that…that I remember them. And I do.”

She reached for one of the figures at the base of the stone, her fingers tracing a smooth curve, pressing against a sharp point.

“I do remember.”

They came quickly then, the memories, ricocheting one against the other. A few had faded to words, others were nothing more than a scent, a touch. And some, some were so complete, so real, it nearly stole her breath when she realized they were not.

It wasn’t until she saw it, resting on its side in the grass, that she realized that she had dropped the small figure that she had been holding. She stared blindly, before retrieving it and placing it back at the base of the stone.

“Three years. It’s been three years since….” She shook her head, as if warding off the one memory that she wasn’t willing to embrace.

“I came here because…well, I wanted to say, for you to know…god, I’m still terrible at this.”

She stared for a moment at the name on the stone, then closed her eyes.

“I always thought that would be time to…more time…but one day you were here, and the next…the next you were gone.”

The first tear slipped beneath her lashes, and the second, both unnoticed, as she continued.

“I should have told you what it meant to me, what you gave me…the answers I found. What you meant to me.”

Her eyes opened as the rhythm of the words found her.

“All of the running. Hiding. And in the end, it spared neither of us. After that day, when I saw your face and knew…it still took time…to see past the grief, the hurt…even anger. But eventually, finally, I understood.”

She fell silent, long enough for the tears to dry on her face. Admissions had never been easy for her. But these, these she owed to both of them. Her fingers sought out the metal band on her finger, new enough yet that its weight still drew her attention, that she sometimes found herself to surprised to see it there on her own hand.

“He’s a…he’s a good man. It took me awhile to see it. At first, we argued all of the time. It was impossible to agree on anything. And…and I was afraid. I thought that was what I’d learned. People leave. You…”

Her eyes darted away as the rest of the words died.

“He’s a good man and…I love him. And now I know that whatever time we have that I...People leave all the time. They find someone else to love, or they drive away and don’t come back, or they…they die. And it hurts. It hurts so much. But what’s worse, is never having taken the chance to tell them…to tell you. So this time, this time I didn’t run.”

She reached out, brushing the tips of her fingers over the letters cut into the stone, lingering over the last, suddenly reluctant to break the connection.

“A hard lesson to learn. A hard way to learn it.”

Her arm slowly fell back, a smile forming along side the tears.

“And maybe the greatest gift that you ever gave me.”

Her hand drifted her pocket, withdrawing the small object she’d brought. She carefully placed it next to the others she had left on other visits, after other conversations.

“And I won’t forget.”

Standing, she absently brushed the bits of grass and traces of dirt from her hands and coat as she stared at the motley collection that lined the base of the stone. Others might think them a strange choice, but that didn’t matter. She knew what they meant.

Even as she turned and began to walk away, she could see them in her mind.

A tin soldier frozen in an olive green sniper’s stance next to a small wooden pig. A blue cartoon character standing atop a faded poker chip. A superhero, hands braced at his sides as his red plastic cape flowed behind him.

She knew.

And she would never forget.

oh my god... this was heartwrenching... great... I nearly cried!

cheesebk

It's a good thing you gave a tissue warning because I needed them. That was so sad. It sucks to be the one left behind!

BGWGscienceteacher

Loved this... so beautiful... and hoping the whole time that your warning was a hoax and the gravesite she was visiting was her mother's. But alas, no... and I liked how it was so ambiguous until the very end and even then was implied... just beautiful!

space

absolutely beautiful with tears rolling down my cheeks....OMG ana simply magnificent....
beautiful imagery and visuals...
OMG so touching and heartbreaking...
and the items at the end...so sweet

hugs chica
fab

wow....I'm not gonna lie, it takes a hell of a lot to make me cry...and I have two rebellious tears resting on my cheeks right now...
That was beautifully written. And even though I feel like crying myself to sleep, I still liked it. Very well done!

miller0259

ana you know how i felt about the whole thing.....holy crap woman...bawling like a baby......oh you had me fooled....i hate angst and heartbreak......but when it is written so beautiful its hard to look away...all the descrïptions......and ughhhhhh the brainy smurf......i think that got me the hardest of all......now ana i need some cee-cee to cheer me up......cause.....ummmm....well i wanted to jump out the basement window, but there was too much snow.....and the fact we dont have a basement.....lol......well done woman as usual........

wow nice but sad *cries*

dbangelfan

I'd love to comment coherently on this, but it's hard to put words together when you're crying. Well done.

sheytune

That really was written beautifully....seriously...but im glad for the warning...saddest thing like ever....

switch

*gasps and swipes the pesky tears gathering at eyes* Wow! What a loverly piece of angst! Simply amazing . . . I mean, wow. So sad. So beautiful. So, so . . . wow. Great job. Really. Wow.

susan1234