Audacity

Cable Stitches Redux

And maybe she felt less than beautiful, and he may be far too bitter for his age. She may avert her eyes whenever she’s faced with a mirror, and his responses may grow cold on some days.  But he’ll always be the one to tilt her chin up and meet her eyes, to remind her she’s beautiful, and she’ll always be there to tug on his arm, sit on a dock with him and admire the lake as he cleared his mind, reminding him that he’ll never be alone.  Together they bind together, a “pinky swear” juxtaposition of personalities, honor and love being compressed into a stare that could carry for ages.  Hazel and brown, drawn together in a conjugal union of understanding, they may not always be sprightly and jubilant, but there is always a concrete law. A concrete commandment, applying o’er all, it states the rule of survival, of preservation and an aid in rejuvenation. Never leave another behind, never forsake loyalties, never let anything become so fermented, it’s too late to fix it. It doesn’t need to be said, the mutual acquiescence is the loudest silence that reverberates against the walls.  Small fingers retrace similar patterns as warm breaths flood faces. In pacem, die Ruhe, the peace. All of it is a peace that just emits from the two hearts, touching and whispering secrets with a knowledge only pain would deliver. Each so broken, each so fixed. It does not happen in minutes, days, hours, or whatever time is measured by so swiftly, but brokenness is healed with a process just as painful, just as excruciating. It was with clichéd humor and joking smiles, but a thinly constructed thread hung between the two souls, hope and faith, emitting happiness and decreasing despair in the pair. And it really all began with a note and a sliver of boredom.

Maybe it was all he hated, all he feared, and all he had heard, but an escape, so desperately sought, was a haven to his still young eyes. Whispers and cold sincerities burned him to the core, a hurt that he just couldn’t rid with all of his distractions and void fillers. His jaded eyes befell the Navy, and his instinct cried for adventure, doing away with feelings, scorn replacing love.  And it didn’t have to be that way. It didn’t have to be so hard, so dangerous to escape. He shouldn’t need to run from his past and grow cold over what he couldn’t change. Accusations and bitter remarks replaced compliments and love so justly deserved.

She hated all that came to her. Anger was so easily aroused and hatred was built up to an unmanageable point. In all honesty, she was waiting for the bromide tragedy to take her life away. It never came, and the burning, stinging pain only escalated. Alone, or so she thought, scorned and left behind, used and burned, it never seemed to change its dreary routine. She wasted away in monotonous routine, overstressing and piling up a near impossible schedule, one hurt could surely overpower a lesser one, right?

Wrong. And nonetheless, he worshipped, she fought with timetables and errands, and nothing came to a resolve. And maybe it was a hug, or the kiss, or maybe the combination of the two, but she and he, they’re now a “they.” And no one really forgets about them, even if they forget about her, or even him. Criticism rains at their back, a hailstorm amidst a sunshine, but it would fall deaf ears. Call it honeymooning, or over euphoria, but neither could give a damn, an age gap is nonexistent, nothing really matters, nothing except for them. And it’s all they really need, right?