Short Story: True Love

Short Story: True Love

She loved him. Always had done. Ever since that first time at the meeting. He had stood tall and proud, his hair immaculately groomed, in front of them. In front of her. He was full of self-confidence, bordering on arrogance. She liked that. She wanted someone who was sure of himself, of his masculinity. There had been other speakers but she had seen them defer to him, look at HIM for approval and guidance. There was no doubting who was in charge.

Now, as she thought about him, she still felt a tingle and a thudding of the heart – though not as great (time does take its toll).

She still wanted him, yearned for him. Three years. A long time - some would say too long. One-way love, apparently, is no good. She hadn’t believed this at all. Any love was better than no love. Anyway those three years were the happiest of her life. She would awaken each morning full of zest and a ‘joie de vivre’, knowing that she would see him, albeit briefly. She would go to sleep imagining what it would be like to be with him, to be taken by him, to live with him.

He lived a short distance away, with his partner and kids. And the rest of his followers of course. It was almost the same. She thought she hated his family at first. Only, on reflection, she didn’t really. They already existed when she fell in love with him. It wasn’t their fault. Or his. She knew this but it hadn’t been easy. Her friends had urged her to move away but she wouldn’t go to far. She had to be close to him. He was her very existence. She needed to see him every day. And she did. Sometimes she would bump into him whilst out. Other times she would see them on the way to the water. He had never given her any encouragement he would just acknowledge her with a polite greeting. That was all she needed – he knew she existed. And if a day passed by with no sighting of him, she would take matters in her own hands and take a short walk to look at him, at them. It did fill her with a sense of wistfulness and jealousy at times, but in her heart she knew what the situation was and she accepted it.

She had saved herself for him – each day hoping that would be the day he came to her. He never did of course. She knew he wouldn’t. He was devoted to his family. He loved them. That is to be admired in this day and age – and she, perversely, loved him more for that. A sucker for punishment, her friends had said. A masochist. She couldn’t deny it. Although she was happy to know he was alive and well, and she greeted each day with fervour, her yearnings for him had mingled with an infinite frustration.

All those suitors and admirers she had refused, was she mad? Maybe she was. Her mother thought so. Oh yes her mother had moved in with her ‘to look after her. And all her mother said was, ’Find someone else.’ But they both knew this was just hot air there never could be anyone else.

Each night she slept with a contented smile.

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She knew she would have to go out again soon – it was almost dawn. She did everything slowly these days. Ever since…

She saw him. He was alone. That familiar feeling of excitement came over her not so young body. She hid behind a tree staring at him. He stood still, his body still firm. Something was obviously troubling him because he stared into the depths of the forest, ears alert. As she stared at him, she let her eyes run over the length of his body. Yes it had certainly stood the test of time better than hers. She remembered the last time she saw him, two years ago. She had heard a commotion in the middle of the night, and the next thing she knew they were gone. She had tried to follow their tracks but it had been a particularly wet and windy night. It had been impossible. No-one knew where they had gone. She had searched for days after but then her body could take no more, and she had resigned herself to days, and nights, of misery. How she got through those two years she didn’t know. She breathed and ate and slept but it was a miserable existence, with no objective, or goal. Inside she was dead.

Now she was alive again. Her true love had returned. Why they had left she never knew. She didn’t even know if his wife was still alive, whether she had returned with him. But as she looked at him, thought about him, she knew she had, finally, to tell him how she felt, how much she loved him. How would he react? Would he think her crazy? Maybe he knew – he wasn’t stupid.

She heard something. Noises. She looked at him. He stood transfixed. Why didn’t he move? Suddenly her heart beat faster and then she saw the men. She growled. He didn’t move. And then she saw why. They surrounded him. Now she howled. And she saw one of them lift a gun.

He knew she was there. But he knew the men were coming. He couldn’t endanger her by acknowledging her presence. He would never let anything happen to her. So he stood silently. Then he heard her growl ‘Keep quiet’, he thought, ‘they’ll hear you’.

He loved her. Always had done. Ever since he saw her at that gathering all those years ago. But he was married. Had a family. And he was devoted to them. He could never have been unfaithful. He had been tempted though. On numerous occasions. She lived nearby. It would have been easy. She loved him as well, he could sense this. But he knew he couldn’t really – the guilt would have plagued him eternally.

So, eventually, they left. Had to. The temptation was gnawing at him, at his very soul, like a woodworm eating away at a giant redwood. Now he was alone. The kids had left home and his partner had gone. He understood why. She had to put up with a lot – his moods, his unwillingness to make love to her, or even to spend time with the children. He preferred to be by himself; his mind would be elsewhere with her. His wife must have guessed there was someone else; though the irony was there wasn’t – not physically. Anyway he was free now. So he had returned. For her.

Before the man had fully raised the gun to his shoulder, she had run from the tree towards the group with a speed she thought had long deserted her. She let out a piercing, soulful howl as she ran, and the man with the gun turned towards her. She leapt at him and as she did so she saw the gun point at her. She wasn’t frightened. Instead she was full of anger. ‘How dare you hurt my true love’. Her eyes blazed and she bared her fangs. She heard the noise and she felt the pain. She fell to the ground.

As she lay there she glimpsed, through half open eyes, the man with the gun point it at her again. And then she saw her one true love leap at the man, knocking him to the ground. She managed a smile. Then she heard another noise and she heard her true love howl with pain and she saw his body slumped next to hers. She couldn’t move. She so wanted to comfort him. She let out a whimper, the pain intensifying and she felt the life drain slowly from her body. She looked at him again and saw that his eyes were shut. And now, as they closed, her eyes smiled. She would know at long last what it was really like to be with him.