Short story: A eulogy for love

Listen to: 183 Times – Greg Haines (click play)

I never understood why you always hummed while thinking. In lieu, I adapted your humming habits into mine and hummed whenever a thought crossed my mind. I remember when we fought, once. The first time; it was a silent war between two hearts that grew distant and apathetic. You just changed, and I changed accordingly. I always moulded into your behavior that I no longer had a specific identity but linked to yours. I think, now, that is why we’ve grown apart; we’ve become so similar that we put out the flair that bond us together like a mother bird teaching its little one how to fly.

You were my mentor, I assumed, and I learned though you never wanted to teach. I would tell you to teach me, and you would refuse. You’re too young, you’d say. Even as I grew older, my infantile nature never grew to you. I understood, I was always your baby, but I needed more than to be a child, I needed to grow old so you’d love me like I loved you. There’s an innocence in you, you’d often point out to me, I cannot disturb it. So you took off instead, eventually that is. We were always destined to fail, not because of my immaturity, but because your mentality and how you first perceived me.

But you see, I grew up along with you. We both did. You grew out of love, and I grew blinder in love with you. It is ironic now that I see it. I see no love, I see no passion. How so, though, when it was all I could feel; when it was all we could both feel? Or were you acting then, like you are now, once in warmth and now in coldness. This is not a love letter or a letter filled with regrets. This is nothing, just like you told me we were, nothing. This is a random stranger walking down a rainy street with no umbrella. This is a crazy gypsy dancing in front of a bonfire. This is a eulogy for love, because you killed it and I am yet to bury it. It has laid motionless at my doorstep for years and years, and I masked its stingy odour with the perfume you gave me till the last spray.

Our fight, yes, the subtle one. The one that tore us apart. It was a summery day, and then again, when does the sun not shine over those in love? You kissed my forehead not my lips, and I felt an ache, a headache from your kiss. You wore that shirt I always hated, the one with the graffiti you never liked. You had your fancy sunglasses on, and I swore for moment, you looked like a stranger from a distance. You waved at me like anyone would, and I smiled at you like no one ever could. You rode in your red car, the one you now pick up pretty girls in mini skirts in, and stopped, like a stranger would. You said, I will see you tonight. I nodded. You offered no ride back home, or to your heart where I belonged. I nodded again. You drove away before I could say I love you, like a stranger would.

Then you called later that evening, and I hated my ring-tone, but you loved it. So I kept it, for you, because you loved it. You told me you loved me in that sleepy voice of yours, and I was all dressed up to meet you. We were pretty together, as I recall. You in that black tux, and me in that white floral dress you liked. You never wore ties, you hated them. You always unbuttoned the first few buttons. You thought it was appealing to women, but not to me. You knew I never liked it, but you did it anyway. You asked if I loved you, and I said yes. You asked how much, I said I don’t know. You hummed. For years now, I wondered why you hummed when you did. If you were to love me like I loved you, shouldn’t there be no measures? We sat silent in that fancy restaurant. Even the music in your fancy red car could not silence our silent guns. But you, you had the last shot. I laid my weapon down and gave up to you, and you still fought back. I guess the only difference between you and I was that you fought for yourself, while I fought for us. That is how you killed love. You killed love because you never felt it. You killed love because you thought it was a war between us when it was only a gesture of eternity with each other. You killed it, but I let you. We’re both guilty, me for loving you, and you for letting me believe you loved me too.

Today, I let no love stand between myself and others. You made sure I would never speak of it the same, like I did when you first told me you loved me. Why would you though, if you were preparing for war? I have grown to despise those who speak of love as those it is attainable, as though it is the only thing that makes sense. When we said it to each other, it was the only thing that never made sense.

  1. Beautiful, Rooni. Unbelievably beautiful. I love the way you strung up the sentences.

    “This is a eulogy for love, because you killed it and I am yet to bury it. It has laid motionless at my doorstep for years and years, and I masked its stingy odour with the perfume you gave me till the last spray.”

    I love it.

  2. ” You grew out of love, and I grew blinder in love with you.” Lovely story.

  3. “You grew out of love, and I grew blinder in love with you.” Lovely story.

    • Dr. V.
    • May 5th, 2012

    Lovely, Nour. Well done.

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