Girl and Boy

Girl and Boy

A Story by Bertram Gibbs
"

The story of two hearts becoming one.

"

This is how it begins.

God sat on the edge of the universe and looked out at all he had created and found it lacking.  Something was needed in the world.  Something special.  He called upon an angel (which was quite easy, since there were angels in abundance) and requested the best of humanity.  The angel flew into the stars and returned with a glowing blue/white orb.  Though the ball of light was smaller than the head of a pin, the angel struggled under its weight.  Passing it to God, the master Creator rolled the shining object in the palms of his hands and pulling here, twisting there, and turning it around fashioned a soul so bright, even the Creator had to squint to get a better look at his handiwork.  The angel, begging the Creator’s pardon, mentioned that the soul was too powerful for a mortal host.  God nodded and ran his finger down the shimmering figure and divided it neatly in two.  He smiled and waved his hands, sending the twin souls in search of a host.  One half found the host almost immediately, while the other half found its vessel a small time later.  You see, the souls could not be housed in any ordinary mortal.  That mortal had to be special.

That was how it began, but it is not the beginning of our story.

There was a little girl and a little boy.  The boy was a few years older than the girl, but their age is of no importance to the tale.

Both grew up in their own worlds.  The little girl and the little boy saw visions of life perfections and saw what life should be, regardless of the bitter reality they lived in.  They were demeaned for such actions, for always having their heads in the clouds.  They tried and tried to follow the rules, but to do so made them feel bound tightly by invisible walls.  As they aged in their own circles of time, some came to believe the little girl and the little boy were cursed.

Not by a mythical evil spirit, nor by coincidence of birth, where the child must pay for the sins of the parents, nor by some madman dallying with things not meant for mortal man, all which would make for an interesting and complex story if this were fiction.  The little girl and the little boy were cursed with a heart.

Now as we all know, everyone has a heart; may it be physical or moral.  And from the moment we breathe our first breath, our hearts are the same; it is the happenstances of our lives that jades the beating organ and manufactures high impenetrable walls around it.  But the hearts that beat in the chest of the two children were larger than most.  They felt more than the others.  They perceived more than others.  And because of that, they hurt more than others.

And because of their hearts, their minds grew in proportion.  The fantasy they seeked became what they expected their norm to be.  The happiness, the joy, the passion, the enjoyment of life, it was more than what they wanted.  It was what they felt they deserved.

Their theory:  If you think it, then it can happen.  If it can happen, it can be yours.

So as they searched for their dream, they reached out to lesser individuals; ones whose hearts had dried and hardened from the pain and fear in their own lives.  It made the girl and the boy settle for less than their ideals, less than what they wanted and still felt they deserved.  And because they settled, the hearts of the girl and boy chipped, fractured and sometimes broke.  And each time their hearts had miraculously healed, a scar; like a stigmata, remained.

And as time passed, the boy and the girl remained true to their nature by if not seeing the bright side of existence, then skewering it with caustic observations and rendering it harmless and sometimes foolish. 

The boy and the girl understood the pattern in their lives – striving for an ideal that was always attainable, but always at arms reach.  They grew to accept the love that entered their lives with an expectation of being hurt or disappointed in some way.

Time passed and the girl and boy became a woman and a man.   They, like all the others, had become jaded and suspicious of declarations of love and affection.  But unlike the others, they clung to that single hope; a hope that became more fragile with every passing year.  That the person of their desires would appear in front of them, telling them that the pain and heartache was never to return.  That they would be safe, and loved, and understood.

Time passed again and the man and the woman found themselves at the crossroad of their lives.  By this time, the man and the woman had children of their own and were immensely happy they did.  In their children, they could fully express the emotions they felt, know that it would be appreciated, and be responded to in kind.  Releasing their pent up emotions made their hearts beat a little faster and lightened the sadness.  And as the children of the man and the woman aged, the two felt an ache deep inside.  It was an emotional as well as a physical ache.  It was a throbbing the man and the woman were very familiar with.

It was the need for companionship.  The need to find that missing piece of their hearts.  And as the ache persisted, they remembered their respective pasts and remembered the feeling of every failed attempt.  It was akin to tempting a man dying of thirst with a cold cup of water.

Then watching it slowly pour into the earth.

The woman and the man tried to bury their desire in the love of their children and, for a short time, it was enough for them.  But came the nights alone, listening to the breathing of their child, listening to their own breathing, and no one else.  Feeling the bed become cavernous below them and the drowning feeling that came with it. 

The ache had returned.

The need had returned.

The dream had returned.

And along with the ache, the need and the dream came the fear.

So one day; a day like any other, the man and the woman smiled.  This was the age of technology and the age of limited time.  The man and the woman seeked the world wide web of lonely people for a new friend, and hopeful partner.

Both waited patiently, hoping someone out in the electronic ether would see what others never strived to see, never considered, or was ignored.  A few connections were made, and for the woman, possibilities existed.  Her hopes were soon diminished by the fact that though the men she had met were nice and likeable she knew friendship was her only offer.

The man, on the other hand, checked the daily mail and found none from any interested party.  He looked at the counter on the screen that showed how many of the curious perused his information.  His lips pulled back his cynical smirk.  One hundred and twenty-five lonely women viewed the capsulated version of him and none found him interesting enough to call.  Undaunted, he modified his information several times, adding more displays of his sense of humor and sense of self, hoping that would make him more interesting to the passing eye. 

He looked at the list of women who shared his interests and his eyes fell to a dark pair of eyes and a beautiful smile.  And he looked at her information and saw similarities.  Then he looked back at the woman’s smiling face and at himself.  He moved to the next page feeling that a woman as lovely as she was would have no interest in him.  He found three women that were close matches to his criteria and sent them a very quick hello and waited.

And waited.

The woman stared at the face on the screen and her eyes ran down the matching similarities, her smile widening.  She looked at his face and at his smile.  She noticed a small hint of sadness to the eyes and made a mental note of it.  Her eyebrow lifted and she pushed a strand of her thick hair from her eyes.  She released a small giggle because this was the second time she read his information; they both were on two dating sites and both systems matched them.  Her mind flitted between a connecting database and the cosmic, but couldn’t decide which.

He was a single parent as well and her thoughts immediately went to her daughter.  He would understand that their children’s stability and emotional wellbeing would be a deciding factor.  If he didn’t, then he was clearly not someone she would be interested in.   She smiled and typed out a quick hello and raised her cursor on the SEND button and stopped.  She looked back at his picture one more time and clicked.

And waited.

He sat back in his high-backed chair, staring at the monitor.  His eyes went to the two opened windows and the same smiling face that appeared in both.  He maximized the email and read her message.  Then reread it.  Then read it one more time.  He leaned forward and propped his chin on his hands and stared at the smiling face.  She had not only an attractive face, but a nice face.  A very nice face.  He smiled when he spotted a small pair of eyes looking at him from the bottom of the photograph.

He typed a reply, erased it, typed and erased the text a second time, then typed, nodded approval and pressed SEND.

And the man and the woman communicated because what was said wasn’t flippant remarks or replies, insincere flirting, or purposely cryptic explanations, it was exactly as the word described: communication.

Their honesty burned into their respective eyes.  Some were serious observations, some were playful repartee, but all were honest.  And within the honesty, the pair found a mirror image of each other.  There were differences between the two, but their similarities shone through like a beacon in the dark. And within that, they found a comfort that they had only dreamed of.

Because of that tranquil feeling, that full and complete expression of self, the fear returned.

 The woman felt the tremors run through her as she read the man’s letters. 

She once again felt her heart begin to crack, its every fissure on its surface filling with pain and fear.  She had realized that in a strangely short amount of time, she was revealing more of herself than she intended.  She trusted him more than she had ever trusted another, and her mind fought to keep every carefully hidden section of her experience to herself.  But she knew in her heart that somehow, anything she said would not be used as a bludgeon to her heart.

It was too much too soon.  It was too intense.  It was making her feel, and that surprised her because she assumed that she was over a tragic episode in her life.  It had destroyed her.  It had crippled her.  But it had made her stronger.  The doing so was to give of herself, but not all.  Not her heart.  To allow her heart to be touched would build false hope and experience the eventual anguish that followed. 

The man felt the tremors run through him as he read the woman’s letters. 

He felt the fear rise within him but it didn’t matter.  He had given his heart to individuals that were not his equal because he felt that he had to accept less.  He knew it was a fool’s journey, but he saw in those women a flaw he thought, through pure emotion and will, he could correct.  And had failed every time. 

His recent heartbreak was still raw and he had resigned himself to a life of just him and his daughter.  After she left to find her own life, it would be just him.  But because his mind was curious, and because of his nature, he had to have answers, the man saw the potential for happiness in the woman’s words and he became determined to know her.

He did not have to weigh his words when he sent her line after revealing line because he knew that she before anyone else, would understand his meaning and his thoughts.  It was too much too soon, it was too intense, but he found he began to crave their dialog, that he would check and re-check his messages, looking for the one from her.  The potential for a solid relationship and the coincidental similarities became too much to ignore.  He swallowed his fear and continued, his eyes figuratively closed, waiting for the hurt to return.

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the words she had typed on the screen.  The woman also felt the possibilities the man did and it made the wall around her heart tighten.  She took much pleasure from his letters.  It made her heart beat faster.  It made her pulse race.  It made her feel claustrophobic.  And that confused her.  The man seemed to be everything she ever wanted in her life, but she was afraid of it going too far.  And in that rapidly approaching distance was her heart.  She felt boxed in by the swirling waves of emotion - she knew that she needed an escape clause.  And she typed the words that she knew would either hurt him and he would walk away, or by some twist of fate, he would agree to her terms and she would be in his arms, but her heart would remain hers and hers alone.  It was a situation that would succeed on both levels.

But still the cursor hovered over the SEND button. 

She knew that she was a coward for doing so, and that was one quality she never thought she owned.  But the man was making her feel and she couldn’t stand the pain again.  She clicked on the tiny square and closed her eyes.

The man stared at the message and felt his blood heat.  He was as insulted by her request as he was confused.  He mentally reviewed all he had said and could not find a satisfactory reason for her suggestion.  There was an unknown variable and needed time to sort things out.  She deserved an answer, but the man felt that there far too many questions within the request to answer with a first thought.  And that thought was tainted by anger.

He also needed to explore his own being, to determine if her request would satisfy his needs and if it was what he wanted.  Though he was frowning, he smiled.  It wasn’t just what he wanted; it was what he felt they needed.

He asked her if she was sure about her decision and stated that he would need time, but would reply.

Tears welled in the woman’s eyes when she saw his reply.  She had hurt him and had hurt him deeply.  She had allowed fear to control her and she dammed herself for it.  The man had never said any negative word to her, was never judgmental when she opened herself to him, and still she sent that note.

She replied that he knew it was not what she truly desired, but that it was safer than giving all of her.    

She waited for a reply.  None was received and she sent another note, apologizing for hurting him.

She waited for a reply.  None was received and she sent another note, apologizing again.

The anger she felt within her heart burned out the fear and made her see what she had done.  She sent another note.  She waited for a reply.  None was received.

The man went about his daily duties though his mind kept returning to the woman’s note.  Each time the words appeared behind his eyes, his ire would flame.  He refused to check his messages for fear of seeing another note from her and reacting badly before he could determine the meaning behind the words.  By mid-day, the rage in the pit of his stomach burned like a pyre and his heart ached and throbbed.  He wanted to vent his outrage but understood that there was something more to her request and to do so would be unfair.   And suddenly, like a switch being pulled, he understood.  And because he understood, he formulated a response.

The woman opened her messages and read the man’s reply.  He understood.  He understood far more than she even realized.  And the woman felt the need to meet the wordsmith rise again inside of her.

The level of words and expressions between the man and the woman increased with every passing day.  The mere idea of meeting each other, to be with each other, brought them to a state of euphoria whenever the telephone rang and the other’s voice was heard.

A date was set for the woman and the man to meet.

And the fear returned.  The trepidation that the physical may not be attractive to the other repeated in their minds like an echo.   

But they both fought the urge to escape into the shadows and met each other.

The woman looked at the man.

The man looked at the woman.

And they embraced.

They felt their hearts immediately open and giddily found they did not have the need to build a wall to protect it.

And they held each other tightly, their fear of rejection replaced with the fear of letting go.  They kissed and found a feeling they never thought would be in their lives.  

And the soul that the angel felt would be too powerful for a single mortal, the soul that the Creator divided in twain, once again became one.

The angel, begging the Creator’s pardon, asked what happens next, because all he could see was what was in front of him, not all like the Creator.

God looked down on the angel from his throne of clouds and smiled.  He looked back at the man and the woman holding each other tightly and his smile widened.

Alone, God explained to the angel, the man and the woman could move worlds.  Together, they can move universes. 

The angel, again begging the Creator’s pardon, asked what that meant.

God’s eyes twinkle as he looked over his shoulder.

The Creator of all chuckled.  We will have to wait and see if they understand.

And he looked down on the soul united and watched their brilliant light fill the sky.

And he squinted.

 

 

© 2008 Bertram Gibbs


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Added on February 13, 2008

Author

Bertram Gibbs
Bertram Gibbs

Lynn, MA



About
As stated, my name is Bertram Gibbs, and I am a writer of speculative fiction, not by choice, but by obsession. I was born in the Bronx, New York, and came from a family of frustrated (and frustratin.. more..

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