A Love Story? The Trilogy (Pt.2)··On-going Novl duration N/A
A Love Story? The Trilogy (Pt.2)
Part 2 of 3. Why? Because.
This seems fairly appropriate in its timing, but is purely coincidental. The birth of this story is as accidental as the Big Bang. And I mean the series. Surely by accident it’s still on the air. Because tv shows — sitcoms especially-, are like relationships. After a few years, you lose interest, the stories become more and more formulaic, jokes and storylines are rehashed and to make matters worse, you throw in a marriage proposal so that the “happily ever after”, we were made to believe is real, is achieved. Because who doesn’t love those zany marriage storylines? Bravo Hollywood, you did it again. Douze points. Too bad the ratings are not what they used to be. Live in your former glories. Just like this guy.
He was someone. Just as unimportant as the rest of us. His every day life was not something you would envy. It consisted primarily of daydreams about leaving his job, having the guts to sever his ties with his family and fast food. See, you don’t envy him. That’s because it so closely reminds you of your life, if you live in Greece. Oh yeah, this takes place there. And not even in Athens, but in a small town in east Thessaloniki. Compared to him, “Lemony Snicket’s Series of Unfortunate Events” seems like a Cosmopolitan article. Or so he would make you think. Because he’s pure Greek. He likes to bitch about nothing. Even though he did not have time for a personal life, he tried to maintain a positive outlook on his life.
That’s when it happened. On a February afternoon, at dusk, right when the light was at its most romantic height of the day. He was waiting for the bus, rolling a cigarette, “Rock and Roll Nerd” blasting through his earphones. Enter THE woman. No matter how many capital letters are needed, the impact that the visage of this particular person has on us, is nothing compared to the knee shattering effect she has on him. From their last encounter, many years ago when they broke up till now, every time he saw her, he tried to not show how much control she still had over his body’s involuntary reaction to her presence. He pretended to be drunk, to explain the redness of his face. He hid his hands as to not see them shake. He tried not to talk too much because he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. She was a dark haired, greenish-eyed walking panic attack for him. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
They had that kind of relationship, where even though love existed, her feelings were dying through daily friction, unhealthy jealousy fits and words of everlasting love. Every “It won’t happen again”, every empty promise of a better future without these high school behaviors of insecurity, that lead to destruction, was like trying to cure cancer with heroin. Because it wasn’t really love at that point. When it comes to real love, you do not demand it in the form you give it. You just accept it, as it is given to you. And that’s the cliché of it. To say that someone is wrong just because they do not show their love the same way you do, is stupid and selfish. But what relationship isn’t selfish nowdays?
Their time together would be best described as an ionic bond. It didn’t require much energy to break them.
But things changed in the time they spent apart. They grew up while growing apart. He learned to accept that not all is perf… “Oh, shit” he thought as she approached, “what does she want?” Because that’s the reaction you have when a former paramour approaches you. So mature. I applaude you. The originality of your inner turmoil is a work of art. “What does she want in this public bus stop? Is she really here for the bus or is there another reason behind this “chance” encounter? Is she looking for a reconnection? Does she still want me or am I still hung up on her? Oh, do I aknowledge her, or do I wait for her to say hello first? No, I’ll say it first when she is 3 paces away from me. That’s a good distance to greet someone. 3 paces. Only 19 more steps till I welcome her in my comfort zone. Crap, crap, crap…16…play…it…cool…11. Almost here. How about I show a little smile first? 8 paces. Oh great idea, I will…”
'Hey' she said.
To be continued.