The Story About Love

Here’s the rough draft sample to
a recent development of mine. Enjoy.

One

This isn’t a love story. It’s a story about love.

Above all, this is my story and no one else’s. I’m the one who trekked into the unknown. I’m the one who abandoned my philosophies on life. I’m the one who cried until I ran out of tears when he died.

He died.

Did I mention there isn’t a happy ending? And did I mention that this is my story? Not a love story, but a story about love.

A story of disgusting, painfully beautiful love.

Nothing will ever compare to our sanctuary of love. No song nor poem ever written will compare to his words, looping in my mind like psychological warfare; killing any thoughts of replacing him with another man. I long to hear his slow, deep breaths again as I lay on his chest. Our kisses were stolen pieces of history, forever lingering on my lips and buried in my soul. No one will ever caress me with gentle gestures and pure intentions as he once did. Forgiving my innocence was second-nature to him while anyone else would question my naivety.

It’s been three months since his death. We had no children; no one to pass on his memories to. All I have is time.

And Tequila.

So while the Tequila is still warm in my belly, while his jacket still hangs by the door, while the rest of the world is at pause, and while my emotions unwind, I will tell you the story about love.

 

 

Two

      Jace Alexander Woodard. His name triggers every sense in my body, chills every bone.

Jace did two things exceedingly well. One, he always told the truth. Whether you asked him if that skirt made your butt look big or if you should call it quits with your girlfriend, Jace would honestly and whole-heartedly give you an answer. If he didn’t know the answer, he would find out. If he couldn’t find the answer, he would simply say “I don’t know, yet” and be done with it.

The other thing he did exceedingly well was love. There is not a single person that he loved that did not love him back. It was morally wrong and emotionally impossible to not fall in love with him. It was the way he stared at you as you talked, looking past your exterior and diving into the abyss of your mind, swimming in your conscience. He was a work of art better left uncollected. You can’t take a man like that away from the world. Everyone deserved to know what it felt like to love and to be loved by Jace Alexander Woodard.

***

      I was walking my dog, Sofia, in the dog park down the street from my house. I had never been there before and was disappointed with myself for having neglected to try it out sooner. Everyone was so friendly and happy to be with their companions.

Sofia was a one year old Saarloos Wolfhound, part wolf and part German Shepard. This was mainly the reason I hadn’t taken her to a dog park. She was still learning that people weren’t play toys and other dogs weren’t meant to be hunted. But that day, that day was special. You see, Sofia had been going to doggy training to suppress her overcoming wolf tendencies. I liked the ferocious side of her, but my neighborhood parent committee didn’t. I was a twenty-one year old Blonde and lived by myself. Who wouldn’t want a wolf at their side?

Nevertheless, I enrolled Sofia in anger management classes for dogs and she excelled like I knew she would. The program took 2 months and a lot of money.

A lot of damned money.

Nevertheless, she finished the program, and that was why we were at the dog park. There was a means for celebration. She was deemed ready for socialization, and I took that certificate for all it was worth. It was time for her to take on the responsibilities of dog-hood, whatever the hell that meant.

I was looking particularly fashionable that day with my hair all a mess, pink Nike running shoes, black Spandex pants, a neon yellow tank, and a pink fanny pack filled with dog treats and plastic bags for poop. I was geared up and pumped for my baby Sofia to get some action.

We earned it.

Man, she was happy. All I could do was stare at her shiny coat, tossing and flipping in the air as she sprinted around in circles. The children were afraid of her at first due to her size, but once they realized she was a gentle soul, Sofia was the life of the park. She got everyone’s attention.

Jace got mine.

He sat on the bench directly in front of me, blocking my view of my precious Sofia.

“Um…” was all I managed to say.

I wanted to ask him to move, but then I realized that we were at a park for goodness sake. I could merely scoot over on my own bench for a better view.

But I had already said too much.

“I’m sorry? What was that, ma’am?” he asked with a smile and confused eyebrows.

A perfect gentleman. As I remember now, yes, he was very kindhearted and well-mannered. No ill-tempered man or woman could deter his good character.

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to make sure I could see my dog, because—“

“Say no more. I’m terribly sorry,” he said as he smoothly got up and walked my way, never breaking eye contact.

“You see,” he continued, “I was trying to get a better look at you.  I wanted to see if you were as pretty as your silhouette lead me to believe.”

I had no words. No words at all.

He sat down beside me, to my left. Not too close, not too far.

“Which one is yours?”

“That one,” I mumbled like a child and pointed. “Sofia. Her name is Sofia.”

He immediately followed my arm with his charming chestnut eyes, leading them straight to Sofia. “That’s a beautiful name,” he said, without breaking his gaze. “I’m more than intrigued as to how equally beautiful her owner’s name must be”.

My heart fluttered and I couldn’t fight the rush of blood that was now flowing to my hot, puffy cheeks. “Cadence,” I smiled.

“Hmm, what are the odds?” he wondered as he turned and tilted his head back in my direction, taking hold of my free will with every second our eyes were locked. I was his.

“What, what do you—“

“Have dinner with me tonight, Cadence. I want to meet your lovely mind. I want to smell your favorite perfume that you’re going to wear on the nape of your neck and the softs of your wrists,” he said as he gently grabbed my wrists. “I want to see the sexy dress you wear for me. I want to learn what foods you like to eat and your liquor of choice. I want to see you get embarrassed as you tell me stories from high school because you’ve had a bit too much to drink. I want to see the look on everyone’s faces that I’m there with you, and we’re happy while they’re pretending to be somewhere else. Can we do that, Cadence? Will you let me take you out tonight?”

 

 

Three

 — end of sample–

C.S.

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11 thoughts on “The Story About Love

  1. “Um” is all I can manage to say right about now. Almost at a lost. This post reminded me why I subscribed to you in the 1st place. This is awesome. Your sense of humor is captured beautifully here.

    At first, I thought you meant he died as a metaphor. I was foolishly thinking ahead. Is the day at the park y’all first encounter? Andddd did he REALLY say these things? Because this sound like something STRAIGHT out a romantic movie/novel lol.

    I gotta read it again.

  2. I had so much reason to believe it was real. It was protected. You used I insead of a character’s name. Andddd you gave him a gotdamn middle name lmao

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