Denise
I watched her, nervous and beautiful
pacing
in front of the window. Worried probably
that it wasn't clear where we had agreed to meet, or
that I hadn't waited for her.
Possibly, she regretted agreeing to this meeting.
She'd lost weight and, was now, as sleek as when they were first together. Elegant.
It was the last time we met, she and I. They were finished
and, although we desired it, we didn't find a way to continue
without him.
I called to her. She looked relieved.
She came in. I spoke of her beauty; her hair longer, her body
thinner.
She denied losing weight. Probably, not wishing to reveal
the degree of her suffering. But, I knew. Once, I had suffered similarly.
When I think of her, I feel the old pain.
Her pain, as I imagine it, is sharper than mine which over time has lost its edges. I feel responsible. I was careless,
I should have protected her. Should have promoted her cause. But I didn't. He has told me, that it is for the best. But,
she is the one I'm worried about.
Silly of me, she is probably well over it. Has started a new life with a new man.
Moved to California!
But this new man, is he good enough? I worry. Perhaps she acted out of fear, afraid that she
would always be alone. Perhaps she compromised and may never really be happy. I know,
that once, she was very much in love. And I know that kind of love is rare.
I hope I'm wrong. I wish her extraordinary happiness. Perhaps, she will be luckier than I.
Still, when I think of her, I feel the pain. I worry.
I hope she has a great love, many children, a satisfying career, and always, people, who
admire her sweetness, her beauty, her style,
her elegance.
I hope we will meet again.