The End of the Story

RosyMoon asked to hear the end of the Eric* story… And who wouldn’t want to do right by the woman in the moon, right?  I mean REALLY.  But that’s the tricky thing about being a writer like me… I move with feeling.  On the day that I wrote that, I was feeling so much need to grieve.  I think… I can’t honestly even remember exactly WHY I felt compelled to tell about the once upon a day there was a man, driving a child molester van full of high school students.  Behind the wheel, he snacked on a most random assortment of driving foods.  Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, lived a swooning fiancé.  And not just ANY fiancé, but the very fiancé of the snacking driver.  She sat in her worrisome tangle at the edge of a sandbox and though I don’t remember for sure, I will portray her prodding the large, uniform grains of sand with a fallen stick from the oak tree that spread its ancient, benevolent branches across the sky above her.  She watched vivacious twin boys romp about the sand as her fearful though love struck mind strangled the very moment she nested in.

Then came the phone call.  Ri-i-i-i-ing, said her mid-priced metro pcs phone.  It was Eric*’s special ring tone.  SURPRISE!  Because as it turns out, Eric* is the driver of the white van.  Athena is the tortured maiden at the edge of the sand box.  While her soon to be ex-fiance was away for the week, she fell in love with another man.  And this is the first time she has talked to her recently cast off beloved since the great fall.  He speaks to her as if all is well.  He speaks to her with devotion, sincerity and enthusiasm, which exacerbates the stinging pain in her heart.  (the kind of sting burns the eyes just before the tears pour forth).  The day is sunny. It is the tail end of April, nearly two years ago.  Even the afternoon sun can not break through this darkened woman’s internal cloudscape.  Eric* confesses that he has truly missed her and feels ripe with gratitude and devotion to his beloved One.  Salty wound!  But not nearly as salty as his will soon feel…  They make arrangements for her to pick him up from the BART station early that evening.  Then she ends the call with a heart that feels more like a dirty bag of sand.

Now I remember why I want to tell this story.  I feel some strange strain of love as I linger in the shadowy past, where Eric* was solid and fleshy and “mine”.  I know living in the past is supposed to be bad for your heath… I looked up from my computer just in time to see a woman standing at the curb outside.  The spring wind whips at her above the knee skirt.  She is an ample woman, and I can see the folds of her large, dimpled ass and her panty lines slicing right through the middle of each cheek.  The fluidity of wind and the solidity of female back-side.  Poetry.  And all unfolding in lucid afternoon sunlight!  I guess this subject matter was getting heavy.  I needed a momentary respite and I sure got one.  Nothing like a ripe ass tickled by breezy, march sunlight.

I promise, I will not live in the past forever.  I just feel compelled to relive the sting it was to pick up this mile high man (he’s 6’4”) and his giant backpack full of a week’s worth of outdoor life from BART.  I miss seeing his face.  Oh the irony of life.  We traveled together in Cuba in the very beginning of our relationship, and I remember feeling so sick of his face after a couple of weeks of seeing it nonstop.  Just looking at it became a mild form of torture… and now… I would pay all the MSG in China to take a long, glutinous look at it.

The drive home from BART was strained.  I avoided the moment as long as I could.  We parked.  Eric* sensed Athena’s preoccupation, and Athena spit it out.  “I fell in love with another man while you were away… and you know him…”  And now for the requisite moral~ Life can be really stupid.  And/or~ Human love is a joke.

I remember Eric*’s vulnerability.  Hey, remember that sting I mentioned at the beginning of this entry?!  I just felt it.  I felt the sting of tears.  Eric*’s vulnerability in that moment of freshly cracked, broken news ranks right up there with the other seven wonders of the world.  It was the kind of vulnerability common in children, angels and new born flowers.  The moral of the story is that living life with your heart so exposed is equal parts blessing and curse and certainly the main ingredient in the recipe for sainthood.  So Eric* broke apart in the car.  And in the face of his flailing, hopeless devastation, Athena’s heart turned to stone.  It remained stone for the next few months… maybe six?  She took up smoking, too.  For nearly a year… Gross.

Yeah, I swear, I lost my ability to cry for quite a while.  It was terrifying.  I thought I might never be able to feel sad ever again.  But then one day I did and I think I might have cried more this past year than ever before in my life.  I dunno why… Maybe growing pains.  Is that the end of the story?  Eric was vulnerability’s poster child and Athena turned to stone and they all lived happily ever after?  No… Eric (I am tired of putting the asterisk after his name, sorry…) moved to New Zealand, a couple of months later, as they had planned to do together, and Athena dove right back into another relationship and proceeded to enter the thick of her Saturn return, growing a mile a minute and drowning in the world of responsibility and smooth drudgery.  She explored her sexuality and became self sufficient.  She has recently been lamenting her ass off in regards to missing her ex.  She realizes that there was so much good in her life with Eric, who was the best of best friends, and she feels like a dumb ass for wanting more.  MORE.  MORE.  She smiles, because she knows that she will always want more and that is right and good and so is letting go…

Now she wonders who she is without a man?  Will she ever know?  What she does know is that every single day she lives somewhat tragically, happily ever after.

Stay tuned.  Next time on Athena’s blog~ learn of her new sexual adventure!… if you dare…

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Rosy Moon
    Mar 22, 2010 @ 22:31:49

    Ahhh, the satisfaction, thanks for humoring me. I am happily addicted to this blog of yours. I mean: “All the MSG in China to take a long glutinous look at him.” !!!! Seriously, thank GOD you have relented to be a writer!

    Reply

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