Memory

She was getting dressed for work.

"Why...?"

"Because... I get bored."

A pause.

"Then can we try without the games? If we mean enough to you, can we just try, no more games?"

She agreed, and he felt hope, for the first time in a long while.

Twenty four hours later, the message arrived.
She couldn't do it.

So the games are more important to you than I am, than we were, he thought.
I'm so tired. So very, very tired.

*****
He was on his way down to review a patient, trying to make sense of his fragmented world, bitterness and anger creeping in the seams. An old friend on the other end of the phone was telling him how it's never a mistake to love someone, because it makes you a better person.

And then he realised that she was right. It wasn't a mistake, my loving you. It wasn't a waste of time. And when I remember us, I'll remember your face; your laugh, your eyes. I'll smile for the crazy things I remember us doing, and how nice it felt to be there by your side. How proud I was of you, once.

*****
I realise now that perhaps there really were two of you.

There was the gentle, intelligent and insightful creature that I fell in love with, whose tart replies bowled me away and made me start taking notice of her, whose mind gave me pause enough to look harder at the pretty shell and walk into her world. And that creature was considerate and embarrassed at times at her world, and tried not to swear in my presence in case it offended me, and she made me happy. It wasn't that I couldn't stand swearing; in truth all I ever want in any relationship is truth and honesty, and love. It was that she seemed to care so much how I felt. She wanted to be good, for me - which is how I wanted to be, for her. (You make me want to be a better person - As Good as it Gets)
I remember her telling me, in the aftermath of C that she was a very secure person; and I remember a time at Mr Bean when she asked me if I was a confident person, looking at me with those teasing eyes of hers which were not yet filled with confusion and hooded against my own. I remember looking back at her and smiling.
And I choose to believe that that creature I fell in love with fell back in love with me too. There are things one cannot hide, a certain look in your eyes, a certain shyness; a certain way of holding hands, a certain genuineness when we kissed. There are memories of us spending a magical, chilly evening shivering with each other and looking into our other halve's eyes till daybreak. And she wrote about it in the same way, with the same near-reverence that I felt; although she slightly missed the point. Being Atas had nothing to do with it; that was the first and last time I ever, and will ever bring someone to that place to be still with them, and to fall in love with them. That place is special in our memory, and I would never seek to defile it; it would hurt me too much, and take away some meaning from myself.

And then there was the other creature who wrote on her blog, which was a self-centered and insecure creature who became crippled by her perception of how other people around saw her, whose face mattered more to her than love, who could convince herself that she was incapable of trusting someone who loved her for no real reason, and that was reason enough to leave - because his love was too great and hers too little - who was intent on dwelling on how empty she felt inside.

And if that creature had remained a figment of her persona confined to her blog it wouldn't have mattered; but that creature slipped into daily life. And that sense of emptiness bled into us... No amount of presents will ever replace a simple gift of, love from the heart. And that burning need to be happy drove her to... strangeness. At all cost.

And day by day that creature gradually overcame the other.

I write now with the benefit of 20/20 hindsight. She wasn't a difficult creature to understand at all, once you realised there were two parts to the whole, which were very, very different from each other. But at the time I just couldn't understand; just couldn't reconcile her increasingly bizarre actions with who I had known her to be. If I had known I would have tried harder to reawaken the first creature, rather than wasting all my time feeling bewildered, and hurting in the dark. I would have sought not to touch your face while you slept and tearing silently at the thought that we must surely end... but to talk. To talk, to beat back the second creature until it died. Because we were important to me.

The second creature forced us apart; I'm not sure which wanted to stay friends. And I wanted to be there too, near to her, holding her, being held in return, hearing her tell me at odd momments that she still missed and loved me, telling her the same in return... because I could not understand the necessity for us to come apart. Because I did not know that the second creature had convinced her that she did not love me, enough, and that moving on was the only cure. I could see that was what she really wanted, and though it would have killed me, I chose to stay, and to try to be there for her.

I read her blog and was horrified to think that she was... who she wrote. That all that had been had been a lie that the second part of her crafted, a loveless long drawn out meaningless time spent wasted; an eternal emptiness. And it was devastating.

And so I chose to leave, for me.

In retrospect I now see that all that had been was not a lie. There were two of you.

*****
There are some things I hope you realise, someday.

The first is that I had an urge, when you forced us apart and hurt me, to return you everything you had ever given me, in anger, in disgust, in rage and sadness.
K helped me to seek God out, with the aid of various phrases from the bible. And I see now that these gifts you gave me remain precious to me, even after everything. They help me remember you, the first you, and smile.

The second is that I never wanted anything from you. (But I was still happy when you gave) I always wanted everything... for you.
That is how I am, when I love someone. That is how anybody is, when they love someone. That's even how the first you was, if you think back far enough. I didn't want us to end, because I remembered we were good, and also because I felt I had failed you.

The third is that I understand now why you cried with me in bed that night, after you had forced us to end as a couple; I understand why you cried when I wanted the first time to end the friendship, and I understand even now why you feel unhappiness after that evening I will never be able to forget, much as I want to.

You can deny it - and you will; the second you holds full sway now. You can tell yourself whatever you need to, to cope. It's okay.
But you know as well as I why you cried, and why it was so hard for you to let go.
You know what I meant when I asked, tormented (no, not callous at all. Callous means uncaring, and I was tormented because I cared too much) why you were even crying at all.

If the second you had been right all along, you would have felt only relief. And it would have been difficult to cry.
We both know it's true - we have both been there ourselves.

I know that you really still loved me, and us - and weren't just saying it, the way the second you probably persuaded you that you were.

The fourth is that the greater part of you, the more precious part is the first you.
It is the part of you that makes me say you could be so very, very much more. The part of you that makes me want you to achieve all your dreams. The part of you that gives you all your insights, of which you have remarkably many, which, if it could vanquish the second and persuade you to return to humility and measure, will enable you to step forwards and take hold of your life, for real. The part of you that will protect you from telling falsehoods, and let you lead your life in joy, and never fear repercussions of your actions.

It is, strangely, the part that God grants you the grace to be. And the part of you that I will pray for, forever.

The fifth is that I have no wish to use anything against you, and I bear you no ill will. I am only human, flawed with the same cheap china shop cracks as everyone else; I break from time to time, and my defence mechanisms come to play - the same as anybody else's. When faced with overwhelming evidence of a lack of truth, I become confused and uncertain what to believe; and if I tend towards cynicism in despair, it is how I cope.

My defence against that is God, and prayer.

The sixth is that I will remember you well. I will not forget the lies, but I will not forget the truths either, and it is your truths that I will choose to remember, smile, and feel sad at; perhaps shed the occasional tear while everything is still too raw in my mind.

The seventh is that I forgive you, for every harsh word, for every mistruth, for every moment that I died a little for you, alone. Not so that I can appear morally superior or uber-Christian, which is how you reacted the first time in anger -- I have no face to lose. And the first time I messaged you that I forgave you everything -- even though back then I knew next to nothing -- I meant it, as I do this time.
I forgive you because it is right. I forgive you because I still love you. But most of all I forgive you because God forgave us all for killing his Son, and asked us to forgive each other our sins to each other. I'm no saint, no martyr. I'm a grubby, flawed, sinful, self-centered christian who falters often and reacts poorly under duress. I am ashamed for all the times I hurt you with my graceless reactions.
I forgive you because I want to.

The eighth is that I see you now, a sum of two conflicting parts. Not all truths, not all lies, just you. Everybody is a sum of two parts, but usually they are not in such strife with each other, not so completely hidden from sight.
I see you and I still believe in you, to take control of your life and become all that you can be.

The ninth is that if you had told me all your truths, once upon a very long time ago; they would have made me love you more and fight harder to help you where I have failed.

The last is that, armed with truth I can finally put it all behind me; past is past. And perhaps one day we can return to loving each other as friends, when I stop being selfish and self-centered, and when you overcome yourself, as well. Perhaps one day I will have the honour to stand with you in church.
I look at E, and then at you - not because I want to judge you poorly, but because I just can't help it -- and I feel such immense sadness and a sense of injustice that E, who couldn't possibly hold a torch to you in any way, who is completely insightless and completely insignificant compared to you, in every way, should be granted a chance to change her life - whether she will take hold of it is anybody's guess. But you, who are still so wonderful in my memory, so very remarkable - even flawed as you are -- well, I hope you'll spread your wings and fly.

I remember you asking me in jest why I wouldn't be your Professor Higgins...
that is the difference between you and E. E is common, and base. Her handicap is that she is blind and thoughtless and needs someone to guide her, see for her, and think for her. You are uncommon and filled with potential, you are filled with insight and are special. Your handicap is only yourself, and only you can overcome it.

*****
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I water'd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with my smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veil'd the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree

*****
I remember You telling me once upon a lifetime ago that I had ruined your weekend, that you'd spent it watching As Good As it Gets with your classmates and not really seeing it or hearing the words, and that you spent most of the rest of your time on the phone to your best friend.
I remember smiling, as you spoke.

*****
I don't know what it means, that I went to the store in search of Music and Lyrics, and came away with As Good As it Gets instead.