Scars - Fiction


 

She listened to Charlie Parker wail away as she tried to do everything but the current task at hand. It was not going to be easy for both her and him, yet she knew that she had to do it. She turned up the volume and then walked down the hall to the living room, where he sat watching a French film. As soon as she walked in, he turned to face her and smiled. Hey, he said, you were right about this film. His face fell when she didn't return the smile, but only sat next to him on the couch and turned off the TV. I'm sorry, she said in barely a whisper. Sorry about what, he asked. She couldn't face him, his eyes that looked so innocent and good. I can't do this any longer, she replied as she turned to face him. Just tell me what's going on, he replied in a wavering voice. She knew the tears would be coming soon. You want this independent woman in your life, she began, one who has no fears or worries. I'm . . not that woman. He exhaled loudly and then pulled her into a fierce hug. Yeah, I know that, he replied. I know you're human. That's why I fell in love with you. I'm flawed, she replied as the tears fell down her face. I need people in my life. I hate asking for help, too. He kissed the top of her head and then asked - do you remember when I asked you to move in with me? She nodded yes. I wanted someone who wasn't afraid to reveal her scars, both old and fresh, he added. I wanted a real woman, not some cutout. I wanted someone who kissed my scars as much as I kissed hers. He lifted her chin and kissed her nose. Can you do that for me, he asked. I do that every day, she replied, causing him to laugh. He then turned on the movie with no sound while Charlie Parker provided a much better soundtrack. The two watched in comfortable silence.  

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