Monday, April 1, 2013

My attempt at Science Fiction and Fantasy (2)

This is a writing exercise, turning a narrative into a dialogue. This is based on the narrative piece titled "My attempt at Science Fiction and Fantasy"

"I've gotta go. I don't want to miss the train."

"You can take a later one"

As I said this she was already out of her chair, getting ready to leave. I just stood there watching as she collected her things and put them away in her bag. I knew my abrupt declaration of love has prompted this sudden need to catch the train home. I didn't want to make matters worse, but I also didn't want her to leave. I started snatching papers and folders from in front of her. She looked up and gave me a daring stare.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay. I'm not upset. I just think it'll be best if we leave it at that."

"No, don't go. I won't mention it again. Stay. We have so much work. Please, stay."

She hesitated for a fraction of a second. We looked at each other with eyes screaming of a thousand unspoken words. She shook her head and continued arranging her notes in a neat pile. I stood by quietly watching her stuff the documents into her pink folder. She paused and gestured towards the papers in my hand. As I gave them back, I tried to read her expression. All I could see was a blank stare, a blink here and a blink there, as a crimson flush raised up her face like the evening tides. I reached out and took her hand, a silent plea to get her to stay. She looked at me and sighed loudly, "I don't want to do this now." I didn't let go of her hand, so she continued,

"I can only imagine how difficult it was for you to say that. But you don't actually love me."

 I opened my mouth to protest, but she didn't give me a chance.

"Will, you have to give me enough space to say what I need. And you have to promise not to interrupt and to listen to what I have to say. Not just hear, but listen. Do you promise?"


"You don't love me. You're simply intrigued because I am weird, because I am different. Once the novelty wears off, so will the attraction. My heart is shouting for me to go for it because I have feelings for you too, but my head knows better. I'll be shattered when it ends and I don't have that luxury. I can't afford to break down. I can't."

"Are you done?"

She shook her head in a yes motion.

"Can I speak now?"

She kept shaking her head and mouthed "of course", although the words never came out.

"Bull shit! That's just bull shit! You're afraid. That's it. You are afraid. And what's up with all this I don't love you crap? Did you tear open my heart and look inside to so boldly declare that I do not love you?"

"Why are you shouting?"

"Because I am angry. You know what Ava, I do have a problem. Sometimes I don't listen and I jump to conclusions. But you're even worse. You assume that you are right about everything. You think that you have to be in control. You can't live life like a contingency plan, avoiding risk and mitigating pain. Guess what, life is hard and you're going to get hurt in the process. Stop analyzing and start living. Don't rationalize the reasons why you shouldn't be with me. What is your heart telling you?"

"That you will loose interest. And what's going to happen to me then? I know that I act all tough, strong, and confident. Maybe I am all those things, but not emotionally. My emotional being has been smashed to a million pieces and I'm holding it together with masking tape. One jolt and it'll come tumbling down. Hell, I can barely make it on my own as it is."

"I know that you are afraid but I love you. I promise to never intentionally hurt you. But I can't promise that there'll be no pain. There will be times when it'll get very difficult and we'll have to work hard at our relationship, but I'll always be there. We'll hurt together and we'll heal together."

She leaned in and took me by surprise. Our relation has never transcended the boundaries of our desks. Sure our feet have touched on the rare occasions we'd somehow synchronize a stretch. Our fingers have grazed while exchanging notes and handing out coffee. But never before have we engaged in a deliberate act of physical contact. I was amused that she'd be the one to make the first move. Her body moved in closer to mine. She overtook me with a warm embrace. Standing tippy-toe, Ava wrapped her arms around my neck, nestled her head in the crevasse below my chin, and held on for dear life. I could feel her pressing against me. I could smell her scent. I could feel her breath. I could hear her heart beat in harmony with my own. We stayed there for what seems like a short eternity. Then, she kissed me on the cheek and disappears as if in thin air. I just stood there, trying to permanently edge this memory in my being.

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