The Heavens Cry for Us ©

by Mercedes Pecunia               approximately 1470 words

It is rather odd.  I have been having the most haunting dreams as of late.  The dreams, that upon waking, do not leave me.  They remain with me.  Everything I experienced with each of my senses instills a response deep within me.  It is beginning to scare me how much these dreams have truly affected me.  I am beginning to think I am going mad, and perhaps I am.  I do not understand why this is happening to me and why now?

I must confess the protagonist of these flashbacks is someone I knew very well, someone from a long forgotten past.  I chose to seal these memories years ago somewhere where they could not be retrieved, but for some reason they have resurfaced.  I believed I had forgotten these events, but I realize now that I was wrong.  I wake and relive the fateful day that "he" left me.

I was in my twenties then.  I remember the first time I saw "his" face.  It was as if all the sunshine from the heavens gleamed on just "him".  His smile was confident, bright, warm, and inviting.  For a moment, I lost my breath.  I stared at those transparent green eyes and lost myself for what seemed like a thousand years.  I managed to regain my composure and "he" was gazing at me innocently, asking a menial question.  I was at a loss for words.  I could not gather my thoughts.  My mind was racing.  I clumsily walked away from "him", but I could not stop studying "him".  "He" intrigued my whole being.  I managed to spot his reflection through a nearby showcase window on the busy street and that is when I noticed that "he" too was watching me.

I felt faint.  My palms were sweaty, my stomach was churning, everything inside me was spasming violently out of control.   I thought, for some time, about what to do and decided to scribble my telephone number down on the only piece of paper I could find in my purse, a crumbled up napkin and for a pencil, a lipliner.  I walked over to "him" and handed him the note and bid him a good evening.  To my surprise, "he" accepted the note without hesitation and even smiled at me when I spoke to him.

A few weeks passed and I did not hear from "him".  I thought "he" had lost the note, or maybe the interest, maybe "he" decided not to call for some other reason.  I went over each possible scenario in my mind.  And just when I began to give up hope, I received his phone call.  Over a short time, I discovered that this man was utterly irresistible and unlike the others, but and there is always a but isn't there? "he" was married.  It was an ongoing turmoil.  I thought I would never have an affair with a married man, yet "this man" had all the qualities that others had lacked, all the qualities that only God himself knew that I desired.  This conflict was beginning to consume me and the more I tried to resist, the more tempting the offer became.

Our romance was more like a friendship with a slight undertone of lust.  We were never very far from one another.  We saw each other almost every day, and not a day would go by that "he" would not call me.  We spent the majority of our free time together.  It was wonderful.  We never argued, well not like lovers do.  We just had fun.  "He" loved to debate with me about all kinds of things and I loved to defend my principles against his scrutiny.  And at the end of it all, we would laugh at the other's ridiculous attempt to win the argument.  The days flew by and yet another season changed.

His college graduation day neared and his loved ones were having a party in his honor.  "He" wanted me to celebrate it with "him" also, but how could I? That limelight rightfully belonged to his wife.  His entire family would be there, including his father, which I had met a couple of times before.  He was the only other person, who knew my identity.  "He" proposed to introduce me as a friend from school, but I objected.  I didn't think I could bare being in "her" presence with "him".  It just was not right.

The party, the graduation, and all the accompanying events were over and done with.  Life was back to normal or so I thought.  It was then when "he" informed me how "he" had promised his wife that upon the completion of his studies, they would begin to form a family of their own.  It was then that his long-lived fears began spewing out of his mouth uncontrollably.  I had been afraid also, in fact, I had been afraid all along, but I had to be strong.  This all had been too good to be true and I wanted to enjoy it for as long as I could, fully knowing that someday, this day would come.  I was just disappointed that "he" would give up so easily.  That "he" could not be stronger for me as I had always been for him.

We agreed to meet one last time.  The heavens cried for us, for our loss, "he" suggested as an unbelievable amount of rain poured from the sky.  The streets were flooded.  Our taxi struggled to make it across a huge puddle before reaching the sidewalk.  That thought about the heavens tormented me.  It was like a cruel joke, but I remained silent, discomforted.  We made our way out of the cab and when we reached the curb, at that single moment, pure rage overtook me.  I lashed out:

"The heavens cry for us? How can you of all people DARE to say that? This whole time you feared burning in hell for THIS sin, going to confession to make yourself feel better.  Then, you burn in hell for betraying your own wife.  You made that vow, not me!"

And although it hurt me immensely, I left him standing there alone.  I rushed away.  I gave him no kisses, no hugs, no adoration, not a single caress, just distance and silence.

Some time passed and "he" found me again.  This time, I contained my emotions and treated "him" as the platonic friend "he" was always meant to be.  We did not see each other very often, but talked over the phone like old friends now and again.  We disclosed little by little how we had once felt about each other mixed in with the every day trivial "catching up" conversation.  Somehow, it seemed almost sad to have had to end it.

More time passed and I became involved with someone else.  My new relationship lasted two years.  At the end of this relationship, I was convinced I was in love and thought my world was coming to an end because of the oncoming breakup.  I sought "his" counsel not foreseeing it would cost me my current relationship.

I decided that my relationship with "this woman's husband" had to end here and now.  It had already cost me so much.  "He" had no idea how I had spent countless hours wishing that it all were different, that "he" had married me and not "her".  "He" even taunted me innocently with this prospect or by saying that he would teach me how to seek out the kind of man that cared for me as much as "he" did.  "He" was oblivious as to how much our meetings meant to me at a time when I had given up on love entirely.  "He" had no idea about any of it.

It took some time for "him" to contact me once again.  "He" called me over the telephone and I asked "him" never to call me again.  There were no fabricated excuses and no kindness in my voice.  I finally revealed to "him" that I had indeed loved him, but that did not matter anymore.  It was all in the past where it should remain.  That was the last time!

...So I thought, but the dreams, these maddening dreams gave me no peace.  I saw "him" each night in my dreams.  Each night I was twenty-something again.  Each night we would go for walks and talk and...I could not stand it any longer.

I had left the TV on in the living room.  It was on too loud, as was usual nowadays, the kids always left it on and walked away from it when they were distracted by something else.  The news was on. I walked over to the TV to turn it off, but for a moment I froze when I saw "his" picture.  I recognized him immediately although he had aged somewhat...Police Officer Perreira had been shot in the line of duty...taken to a hospital...but...but...the injury was fatal!