Real versus unreal

“Did you write this?” She asked him directly. In a surge of embarrassment, he walked away with a flushed face. She picked up her pace to match his quick steps. She touched his shoulder from behind and he shivered as he stopped. He placed his palms over his eyes. He wanted to disappear from the face of the earth.
“Why don’t you admit it?” She walked in front of him and drew his hands away. She looked at him. He looked at the ground.
“I’m sorry” he mumbled through clenched jaw. His breath left a trail of fog in the cold weather. His cheekbones were pink and his dark hair had subtle brown highlights that stood out against the snow filled background.
In a burst of anger she threw the secret love letter that she had found, at his face. He had written it for her, but had never intended for her to find out. He grimaced with pain inside as it brushed against his skin.
“Why didn’t you utter a word? Why were you so reserved all this time? Why did you pretend that you never cared?”
He was silent.
“Why don’t you look me in the eye? Why do you leave when I walk in? Why did you ignore me for so long? How could you deny that I had wanted you too? You’ve ruined my life!”
“I didn’t mean to” he said, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted you to find out, I didn’t want my feelings for you to ever end.”
“I don’t understand! Why couldn’t we be together? Why couldn’t we have gotten to know each other better? Lived happily ever after? You see, everything’s messed up now. I can never wake up and face the day without sensing that something is missing. I can never not think… about this, about you, about what you did! I’m forever trapped” she continued, “Because now it’s too late. I’m obligated to the future. I’m bound by societal rules and plans that have been made for me. I’m fixed into settling down and having a family with someone else” she placed her hands over her face and cried, “I can never be happy.”
He tried to touch her hand but she brushed it away. “Because of you!” she said through her teeth and with teary eyes, “Why didn’t you tell me all this when you could have? Three years of acquaintance and not a single word of truth from you! Why didn’t you tell me all this before I found someone else? It’s too late now. I could have been with you. My life’s an empty, meaningless, waste of time.”
“You’ll move on… eventually” he said.
“I’ll never move on. I’ll always be in love with you and never be able to be with you. I hate you because of that. It’s all your doing. You’ve played a game with my heart.”
“I promise you, that I didn’t mean to…”
“You’re admitting that it’s a game?”
“I suppose l…” he could barely say the word, “I suppose love is a game.”
“Then it isn’t true, is it? It’s not real, it’s just make-believe, like a game!”
“Can’t a game be for real? I engaged in it with all my heart, and I almost died because of it.”
“You can’t expect a game to last forever.”
“What meaning does forever carry?”
“What meaning does a moment carry?”
“Sometimes, it carries great depth.”
“Can’t a forever bond have depth too?”
“Then it wouldn’t have the length.”
“But momentary encounters are so sporadic, temporary, and heartbreaking. You’re left with shattered, empty, non-existent memories.”
“Are memories non-existent? Were all those feelings that once made your heart swoon, unreal? Are encounters make-believe? If so, is depth unreal?”
“Yes. The only thing that’s real is a forever and ongoing bond through time.”
“I wish that for you. I want you to feel, taste, and live in what’s real.”
“But I’m not happy in reality.”
“Then you’ll have to deal with heart-breaking encounters” he said as he kissed her. Soft snowflakes fell over them in their silent surrounding. They embraced for however long, before reality drifted them apart.

RealUnreal

 

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Nina

He had a pretty shitty job on the side while he was studying in college. He worked just because it was something to do. He sat in the boring college newspaper office and attempted to organize several articles together. One day, a new girl started work. She walked into the office and passed by his desk. He looked up and saw that she was wearing a pretty tight-fitting outfit that highlighted her curves quite well. After he lost sight of her, he went back to look at his computer screen. Few minutes later, she came back near his area to discuss tasks with the supervisor. He finally saw her face clearly and thought that it was okay. It was the best thing that was happening at work for him anyway. He overheard her asking a lot of questions and thought that she was taking this stupid job a little too seriously than he ever would. When she went back to her desk, she passed by him and he greeted her with a smile. She greeted him back.

A few days later, he was out in the work hallway getting a soft drink from the vending machine. He hoped that it would keep him from falling asleep in that meaningless part-time job. Right then, she opened the door and walked into that empty hallway where he was standing. They greeted each other with a hi. She searched inside her purse and discovered that she had a twenty dollar bill for the machine and it only accepted change. She asked if he had change, and he did. He grabbed his wallet and they exchanged bills.

A few weeks later, she discovered that he was very funny and charming. She laughed at all his jokes. He liked that his hours at the pathetic job was moving by faster, so he kept the jokes coming no matter how bad he felt that they really were. One day, he suggested that they go out across the street and grab a quick sandwich for lunch. She happily agreed and they walked together. While walking, she wondered if strangers saw them as a couple. She was Hispanic, curvy, and her name was Nina. He didn’t know much else about her. He was just an average privileged American who was paying for college through a fund his parents set up for him. While they sat eating their sandwiches together, he told her about his parent’s business and his lust for antique cars. The most that he learned about her was that her parents were migrant workers. She didn’t say anything else, so they shifted the topic to talk about a recent bar that opened up nearby. He asked if she’s interested in joining him there that weekend, but she hesitated and said that bars were not her thing. The more she resisted, the more he attempted to get her to come. She finally agreed, and they set a date to meet.

She parked her mediocre car at the bar’s parking lot and waited for him to arrive that weekend. He arrived with two other of his guy friends. She felt awkward at first, but stood by his side after greeting them. During much of the night, she just remained by his side. She even wiped his forehead once with her hand, but he was already too drunk to notice it by then. The guys played pool at the pool table and she just watched them. He asked her if she wanted to play too, but she hesitated because she wasn’t good. Once his friends got tired of the game, they left the pool area and moved on to fish for girls near the bar. She took the opportunity to grab a pool stick and played goofily by herself. He drank from his bottle and smiled at her with reddened eyes. He walked closer to the pool table where she was and stopped when their bodies touched. She turned her neck around and felt the warmth of his face near hers. She smiled after meeting her eyes with his. Slowly, he turned her body around and placed her gently on the edge of the pool table. He delicately caressed her as she gently embraced him. They kissed softly. She was a good kisser, and she kept him on the edge of wanting more. She fell very much in love with him from that night onwards.

She believed that they were in a relationship in the next coming weeks, but he didn’t behave like an ideal boyfriend. Firstly, his jokes started to get a little too demeaning, and then his playful horsing around started to get a bit too rough. She continued to accept it, nonetheless. He then started calling her less, and eventually he stopped. Luckily, she was able to read between the lines and realized that he no longer had an interest in her. She was bitter yet adamant when she decided for herself that she would let him go completely and move on, even though it was hard.

Eleven years later and with a two-year-old son and a trophy wife under his belt, he came home from work one day and learned that his wife had just hired a small cleaning company to help her out with the home chores. It was their first new house together, and it was too large for them to handle all of it. What happened next was due to the trick of time, or something of that sort. One day, when he was sitting comfortably at home, a cleaning employee walked into the living room with a bright green shirt and a name tag that read “Gina.” Her skin was slightly rough and her body was curvaceous. He smiled back at her radiant greeting smile as she plugged in the vacuum and went at it. Another weekend later, his family went out to shop but he stayed back home and looked out the living-room window while Gina cleaned and sang Latin pop songs upstairs. A few months later, when his kid was sleeping and his wife was running errands outside, he accidently bumped into Gina when she turned around with a duster in one hand. The duster hit his chest and dust floated all around them. Gina apologized and tried to dust off his chest frantically with her other hand. He gripped her hand and almost pinned her against the wall and let it loose, but instead, he looked into her large eyes and sternly told her that it was okay. He walked out and closed the door behind him, wondering when. He knew enough to know that it will.

It happened when his family went to see their grandparents. Gina’s hair, all tangled up between his fingers and against the wall. She had luscious and persistent lips. He reached his hands towards her chest and caressed her nametag engraved with Gina, over and over again. He couldn’t wipe it out. He couldn’t erase her out. What was he wanting? Something despicable, pathetic, and cowardly. Gina with her sunburnt migrant skin, and flashes of Nina working hard through college. Back sweat and slippery skin. It was pathetic, these wretched beings. These imbeciles; the mediocre and the absurd. Gina’s soft flesh; naked and kind. Unseen damages and reckless behaviors. Unpronounceable words and lack of vocabulary. He hated it all. But she matched his rhythm, and he liked this. Out of breath and out of wit, he despised these people. Their back-breaking labor and lack of charm. He despised himself as Gina smiled.

There was no tomorrow after those few hours. He looked at the setting sun from the sofa as Gina tried to catch her breath, leaning against it. With the grasp of the darkness approaching, he had to bundle it all up; all these vile and senseless things, and throw it out. He wrote her a large sum from his checkbook before terminating her employment. Inane, scums of the earth, witless and far beneath him. Laborers and fools with ratchet dreams that were no match for his game. She took his check and her clothes and walked out. He watched her, the temptress and the goddess beyond his will. He watched her fade into the dark; out the door, out of his world and never to return again, while his gut howled in agony.

Months came, and years came too, and soon he saw himself as wrinkly and old. The seasons were lackluster and cold as all the colors faded out of his heart and his skin, and the money kept pouring into his pockets and made things heavier and more binding. Thoughts of disobedience and frenzy became ever so far; untouchable, unfathomable, unrealistic, and unkind. All things turned bland and left him high and dry like a piece of white paper paycheck floating up in air, who knows where, emotionless, full of ego, pride,
and full of regrets for never doing the basic things
the sweet things
that could have been
like way-back-when in college, before things got ever so complex and numb,
as he barely recollected flashes of Nina’s fledgling pride, her far-fetched hopes of becoming a journalist one day, her sincere smile and her innocent laugh,
just once more, he wished, with his half closed eyes.

Nina

Vacant wedding

“Maybe I’ll have a song like this in my wedding,” she quickly thought and told her friend, while dancing out of sync with a drink in one hand. Her lips were frozen in a half smile, and her eyes were distant. She almost fell down, but her friend gathered her up. That would have been painful, thought the friend… considering how out-of-shape she was. The woman continued to dance, bending her knees up and down. The friend thought about her own toddler nephews who danced like that. The woman’s looped up shawl moved to the side, exposing an unkempt tattoo on her upper arm. From the distance, it looked like a big black mole over her pale cottage-cheese like arm. A song that the woman liked began to play, and she began shouting it out of tune. Tonight was the highlight of her year. She hadn’t had this much fun in months. Tonight was an opportunity to drink. Tonight was an opportunity to block out all the issues in her life until the next day. But she’d been doing that all her life anyway; all forty-five years.

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Changing girlfriends

“Hey, I just wanna let you know that I’m getting a new girlfriend. You never give importance to me or to the things that I value. You never want to do anything together that’s fun or conducive to our relationship. You don’t have any future goals. I don’t even know what it is that you want… from me, from us, from our relationship, our plans, future, anything. We’re losing sight of the things we have in common. For god’s sake I don’t even know what you really enjoy doing anymore. Coming home has become a task. I feel dead or as if I’m dying. I think you’re completely not there for me nor are you beneficial to my mental health. We don’t communicate. You’re not supportive. I have no idea what makes you happy, and the few things that does– god help me– I don’t get it. It’s tiresome. I quit. I’ve moved on. I have a new girlfriend.”
“Does she have better hair than me?”
“…Yeah.”
“I approve.”

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Blue, black, grey, and ombré

She walked over to him and said, “I need to have a discussion with you.”
“Ok” he said.
“It’s about colors. I hate black. I hate black vehemently. I even hate grey. You know what, I hate blue too. In fact, blue repulses me. Blue is like a traitor color. But I truly hate black. You can put all the shades of grey, black, and blue together and send them all to hell. I hate them all! I even hate ombré!”
“Wow ok” he responded.
“It’s disgusting” she snarled, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said goodbye to her colleague as she put on her black coat and walked out of the office at the end of the day.

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Dinner conversation

I wanna open up to a girl one hundred percent, show her all my vulnerabilities and love her like there’s no tomorrow, he said.

I’m right here, she said.

I wanna hold her and focus on her face, kiss her, fall asleep next to her, caress her hair, hold her again and rock with her, body to body, motion to motion in a repetitive fashion for days and nights on end.

I’m right here, she said.

I want to fall in love completely, as if I’m bungee jumping off a cliff into a continuous free fall forever, and give her my everything; every inch of my palpitating soul, every inch of my generous, sensual, tangible warm body.

I’m right here, she said.

I need a girl who loves without limits, who matches my passion, my zeal, my sensitivities, my pain; who wants to touch me and hold me, love me and cry with me, who looks at me in the eyes and sees nothing else, who feels my burn and feels nothing else.

I’m right here, she said.

“Ready to go home?” He finally spoke as he looked up from his phone at the dinner table.
“Yep” she replied as she grabbed her purse, before they headed their separate ways.

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How would you like your men, ma’am?

A young woman walked into sky mall.
“How would you like your men, ma’am?” A store clerk asked.
“How would I like my men?” She questioned, slightly annoyed that the clerk hadn’t figured out her extra picky nature by now.
“How would I like my men?” She repeated while thinking out loud. “Just like how I like my clothes,” her voice trailed off into the clouds.

“It has to be the right material to make me comfortable. Made of fabric that doesn’t fuzz up. The perfect color to brighten up my skin. The exact size for my fit. It has to be snug but gorgeous at the same time. It has to be versatile enough to be styled into different layered combinations. I should be able to dress it down during the day and party it up at night. Must be durable and long lasting. Must be a classic style that will always stay in fashion. No polka dots or stripes, please. It must be soft and soothing to the touch.”
“Would you like your clothe to be infused in lotion ma’am?”
“Sure, why not.”
“You are very particular!” The clerk said after finally finding the perfect clothing for her.
“Well, it’s very important to me,” she said while remembering a time she had compulsively bought some flashy outfit that had caught her eye; which didn’t match her lifestyle nor her personality. She wore it probably only once, and never again.
“Make sure you take good care of it,” The clerk advised her.
“Oh, this will last me a long time.”
“Would you like to shop for any other clothes?” The clerk asked politely, yet hesitantly.
“Of course! I need several more shirts, extra pants, and some new sweaters for the season.”
The tired clerk took a deep breath and regretted asking her.
“But, don’t worry, I can buy those any other time. I’m so excited about this outfit, I can’t wait to go home and wear it right away! It’ll be my favorite!”
The clerk exhaled.
She smiled and waved goodbye as she walked out of the store happy.

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