Ubertines '06 - They Don't Love You Like I Love You (885 hits)
Category: RomanceLabels: short_stories, The_Dead
Rating: 1.83 on 21 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Axolotl (View user info) at 2006-02-02 18:12:12 EST
http://www.ubersite.com/m/83258
Due to my computer crashing straight to hell, I won't be able to have internet access tomorrow. I'm daring the double-post taboo to post my Ubertines '06 entry. Please forgive me.
They Don't Love You Like I Do
------------------------------------------
She walked across the dark lane, as the skies began to open up. Crossing the pavement in the narrow street, she looked up and her eyes shone as she saw her friends. She picked up the pace to join them under the light post, and they hugged and laughed with each other in the sheer pleasure of being together.
They stood for a moment, shivering but happy, in the cool February air, and one made a beckoning movement, and they continued across the cobbled street, long hair drifting behind them. She had soft brown hair, blurry through the tint of my small bedroom window, and an angelic face, ever smiling and sweet.
She disappeared from view.
I drew back from my narrow window and sat in the darkness, glancing for a moment at the locked door leading back downstairs to my uncle and aunt. This room had been my grandfather's, before he had died, and I was staying here now, sleeping in this deathly place.
I crawled back onto my bed and looked across the shingled houses, massed together like a sea of brick and stone in my city. My feet cold from the bare hardwood floorboards, I got up on my knees from the bed and prayed, clutching my beads, as the wind hissed and whistled through the cracks of my roof. It seemed to whisper "love, love," as the particles of the air hurtled past.
Inspired by a cold heat inside my empty stomach, I moved off of the bed and looked down onto the street corner, dimly lit by the lamp post, to where she had once stood before. I saw nothing, and got back into bed, the thoughts of her pushing against my brain.
The next day was Saturday, and I got up and looked out the window for a few hours. My luck paid off around ten o'clock, when she walked down the street, dressed and looking as though she had just arisen from bed, and her hair was askew. She was alone and looking nervous and worried as she made her way lightly down the lane, and I wished to comfort her in my arms. There was nothing more that I would wish to do than to see her happy, to make her feel like everything was right in the world.
"Come down here!" my uncle called. "You need to go to the market! We're out of bread!"
"In a minute," I replied, not wanting to lose my attention. But the distraction had lost her; she had disappeared from sight. Cursing my luck, I got dressed and went downstairs. My uncle wordlessly gave me several pounds, and I walked out the dessicated, rotting door and walked out onto the cobblestones.
Immediately I made my way to the street corner where she had been the night before. I touched the lamp post, and stood in the place where she had stood. I smelled the air and reached out before me, almost hoping to feel her there. Fearing my uncle's wrath, I walked down the road to the market.
Past the alleyways with weeds and grass growing where the poorest of the slums dwelt, I came into the wide High Street under the grey, smog-filled air, a blurred blob of light shining where the sun was. The marketplace was busy and filled with people, going in and out of the shops lining the road.
There was a grocers' and a flower shop off to the right, and a tailor and a butcher, an office building and an ironworkers'. A soldier, sans rifle, was perusing through the fresh vegetables, on leave from the barracks across the River and the quays. Molly, the young fishmonger, called out her wares "alive, alive-o!" as she wheeled her cart down the bumpy streets.
Some whores from the Temple Bar brothels walked smirking through the alleyways. I sneered at them as they walked by, imagining for a fleeting second that my girl from under the lamp post was one of them. I bypassed those base women and went into the grocers'.
"What'll it be?" asked the fat grocer, mustached and proud. I answered that I would need milk and bread. I handed him over the money, and accepted the goods. As I walked outside, there was a small commotion in the street.
Through the rain puddles of the dank cobblestones, a small white dog ran, bounding with joy and enthusiasm at his freedom. The passers-by either ignored him or glanced uninterested at the dog, tending to their own affairs. He was a terrier, and fully intent on escaping his owner, a girl running after him, calling through the streets.
My heart rose; it was her! It was the girl from under the lamp post, stooping as she chased after her dog. I had a chance, a chance that could come once in a lifetime! I leapt out into the dog's path, and seized the terrier, clenching its yapping, squirming form into my breast.
I turned to her; she had slipped into a puddle, and another man was helping her to her feet, pulling her muddied skirts up from the dank. My heart burned to see her gratefully turn and smile at that man...I had been the one who had helped her, I was holding her dog.
But she turned upwards to me, her face shining in gratitude. She drew closer to me, her hair disheveled, blushing, and reached out for the dog in utmost joy.
"Thank you," she said, and she pressed her lips against mine for an instant. I froze, trying to savor every moment of the short second our mouths connected. The slight taste of mint drifted across my lips—and it was over, as soon as it had began.
She hugged me, and my face disappeared in her hair. She drew back and waved goodbye, losing herself in the crowd—a gesture of gratitude.
I walked home with my bread and milk in either hand, as though I were in a dream. It didn't seem real, as though it hadn't happened. I hadn't even attempted to follow her—I hadn't even asked her name! The opportunity had been taken and wasted. My heart was crushed as I returned to my uncle's house.
"You got it?" he asked as I entered, not knowing what I had just been doing. I smiled inwardly at his ignorance, and set the bread and milk down on the table. Returning to my room, I laid in wait, wanting her to come back with all my heart.
I didn't even know her name...but she would be on the corner beneath the lamp post this night, and I could talk to her and ask her. Did she...would she remember me? I waited and waited, and it seemed that my long hours would be in vain. I berated my stupidity, and smote my breast, coughing in the freezing night air, wishing that I had even said a word to her.
I felt like crying, and I put my head in my hands. I wished we had kissed again...even if it was so awkward that my tear-soaked cheek had bumped hers as well...I might never see her again; the opportunity had been wasted. If we never see each other again...I didn't even want to think about that. I couldn't imagine going to my grave having not seen her, or said a word to her again. When we died, if there was no heaven, I wanted every particle of my body, every atom to find her atoms, and be together, no matter what distance separated the two of us. I looked out the window on the dreary road, my face wet with briny tears.
And there she was! Approaching the corner with her companions, her gaggle of girlfriends. I recognized her instantly, and I laughed in my joy. I tore myself away from her beautiful stride, her smiling face—perhaps happy because her dog was safe?—and pulled my coat off its hanger. I would sneak down past my uncle and meet up with her. I didn't care what her friends might say, I had to do this, for my own soul, so I wouldn't be a failure for my entire life.
I returned to the window as I prepared to go down, and saw to my disgust some other boys congregating with her and her friends. They were the kind that she would like—handsome, tall, confident—and she was expressing interest in them! I stalled my hand on the door, and watched her flirt shamelessly with the boys, along with the rest of her crew.
One young man in particular was devoting attention to her. If only I could read lips, I thought. I longed to go down onto the corner, to talk to her, to brush away those boys and be with her alone. I wanted to tell her I loved her, that they don't love you like I love you.
I put my coat back onto its hanger. There would be better times, better ways. Besides, it was cold out.
I watched them giggle and flirt, taking in every one of her motions...if I only knew her name. Emily? Mary? Deirdre? She flipped her brown hair over her head, her lips moving confidently in her speech. To think that those lips had touched mine just this morning...had it meant anything?
Those boys...they weren't anything. She was far above their pathetic lusts, they couldn't measure up to her. I reminded myself dismally that neither could I...but I only had her best intentions at heart. I needed to do something for her...to show her that I cared.
Every day I watched her go by outside the window, surrounded by her group of friends, and even the young man. Eventually I went even further, exiting my house and following her footsteps down the narrow streets and blocks, even to St. James' Gate, just a few dozen yards behind her, watching her.
Walking through Phoenix Park one day, I was next to her in thought and spirit, but not in body. She and—and him—they were walking hand-in-hand through the park, talking to one another. I was watching them from a bench, concealed behind a hedgerow of trees. I burned with all of my being to be with her, to hold her hand like he was, when it came to me. Flowers...she was gently caressing one of the flowers along the hedges as they sat down together, blushing as he caressed her in return.
I walked back to my home, and pondered my situation. I would get her flowers. Not just flowers, but long-stemmed roses, the finest in Dublin. For this, I needed money, though, money that I didn't have.
"Sir," I addressed my uncle, knowing all too well the burning glare of his beady eyes. "Can I go to the market tomorrow? It's a Saturday, and I'm off school."
He stared at me, mustache crinkling. "Tomorrow...have you finished all your schoolwork?"
"Just now."
"You don't..." he began. The wheels turned in his head; I knew he was searching for a reason to detain me. Unable to think of anything, he said gruffly, "I suppose you need money, do you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then here's four pounds," he said, in an uncharacteristic abandonment of argument. Looking into my eyes as he handed me the money, he said, "Do you say your prayers?"
"Yes sir."
"St. Valentine's Day is tomorrow."
"It is, sir."
"Just telling you," he said, releasing his grip on the money and sinking back into his armchair. "This isn't for some girl, is it?"
"No sir. It's for myself." I said, feeling the gall rise in my throat as I lied to him.
"You may go," my uncle said as a final word, turning back to his paper.
My heart filling with joy, I counted the money and returned up to my room. I could finally do it...could finally show her my love for her. The icy wind whistled through the lattices, and it said "love, love" as I lay in bed, thinking of what was to come.
It was all so perfect, and so was she. My angel, my love...her innocent-looking eyes, and her ruby lips would soon be mine. I thought endlessly of the moment we kissed, and my happy thoughts faded seamlessly into my joyous dreams.
I woke up the next morning, and I pulled my four pounds out from where I had stowed it in my dresser, in my sock. Bidding my aunt and uncle a good-day, I stepped out of my door and into the light.
I made my way down the lanes and into the High Street, where the normal pack of people congregated and conversed. The soldier, the tailor, the prostitute, the beggar, the pickpocket—but out of all of them, I thought myself the most lucky. Only I had her, the beautiful girl from under the lamp post. I needed to know her name, I needed to tell her what I felt.
I walked into the flower shop, which was exceptionally busy on this day of all days. Young men were purchasing marigolds, tulips, and roses for their lovers, and having Valentine's Day inscriptions writ upon them.
"Hello," I said cheerily, feeling for the money in my pocket, ascertaining it was where I had left it. "I'm here to buy roses. It's for a young lady."
At that moment, she entered. Brown hair, full, red lips—it was the girl from under the lamp post. I turned around and hid my face: this was not the way I wanted to meet her. How could she walk in here...? Of all the times I wished she had visited me, come near me, and now I only wished she could be somewhere else, in another shop.
"Erin, what'd be good for Tom?" she asked her friends. The other two girls clustered around her, and skimmed across the flowers. From the corner of my eye, I couldn't help but watch her, her narrow, tapered fingers selecting a white rose. As the cashier abandoned me for somebody else, another customer, I turned more completely to look at her. I couldn't help it, she was beauty personified, perfection.
She looked up at me, and smiled. My heart stopped beating, and I froze clutching my four pounds in my white-knuckled fist. It wasn't supposed to be like this...I was supposed to present her with the flowers, and confess my love to her. It shouldn't be like this...
"Hey! You're the guy who saved my dog!" she said with a friendly smile. I half-expected her to kiss me again, but her giggling friends destroyed that hope. I was talking to her face-to-face, for the first time. What had been acted out in my dreams was now being played out in real life. I longed so hard inside me to kiss her infinitely soft lips once more, to bury myself in her hair, but it was in vain.
"Aww...buying flowers for your girlfriend? That's so sweet, you're such a nice guy," she said, prying open my sweaty, clammy fingers to see the pounds inside.
"No...it's not..." I said, choking. It couldn't be like this, it wasn't supposed to...
"Ah, whatever," she said dismissively, laughing haughtily and turning back to her friends. "I'll see you 'round." She exited the shop with her two friends in tow, evidently having decided not to purchase any flowers for her Tom.
As they left, Erin said in what was meant to be an undertone, "What a weird guy. Where'd you meet him?"
"Just some local boy," she, my girl, said. "He is a bit strange, isn't he? Let's find Tom and Brigit."
I stood there in the flower store for a long time. "Aren't you going to buy anything?" the shopkeeper said, annoyed. "It's Valentine's Day, we're busy. Buy or get out."
I left the store and walked out onto the street. I had finally met her, finally had been with her, and I still didn't know her name. How could she say that about me? My heart felt ripped apart, I had been betrayed by her.
"Alms for the poor," a beggar was saying outside the shop. He had matted hair and a grey beard. "Mate, spare a bit of change?" I dropped the four pounds in his hat, and watched his face grow from resigned to ecstatic. "God bless, mate!" He turned and left, going into an alley.
I could have loved her...I could have loved her better than anyone else. But that time was past, and neither of us seemed to be who we really were. I followed the beggar for a few yards into the alleyway, sat down on a bench, and wept to myself. I was alone, and that was what I was going to be.
Vanity, vanity, all is vanity.
User Reviews
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2006-02-05 02:21:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
oh, fuck.
dicount that, oi, +fucking 2
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2006-02-05 02:20:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Oi, my friend, if i beat you, i would be sad, you are a much better write than I.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-02-04 12:43:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-02-03 15:03:40 (#)
Ranking: 2
excellent ending.
i feel like that's what I lack the most, so it's nice to see someone else tight the knot so nicely.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That what you lack is the ability to end strongly?
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-02-03 11:45:55 (#)
Ranking: 2
i want a guy to stalk me like that. it seemed like a safe stalker.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Best intentions at heart, so it's okay.
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2006-02-03 02:16:14 (#)
Ranking: 2
Pack up
I'm straight
Enough
Oh, say say say
Wait, they don't love you like i love you
Ma-a-a-a-ps, wait!
They don't love you like i love you...
Made off
Don't stray
My kind's your kind
I'll stay the same
Pack up
Don't stray
Oh, say say say
Ma-a-a-aps, wait!
They don't love you like i love you...
Ma-a-a-a-ps, wait!
They don't love you like i love you...
--------
pleasure to get my ass kicked by you i'm sure...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yours was pretty good as well
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-02-03 00:49:10 (#)
Ranking: 1
I liked it. It was sad, and kind of speaks volumes to me about missed opportunities. It didn't knock my socks off though, and in competitions like this, I tend to be a little stingier with my +2's.
I think the boy's voice was a bit off, to me. He didn't really talk like a boy, yet somehow I pictured him as pretty young.
--------------------
I see about the boy's voice...I was picturing him as somewhere in mid to late teens, as I am.
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-02-03 17:45:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
But something wasn't quite right.
+1.5 overall.
-Dave
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-02-03 17:45:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
The ending was very strong.
-Dave
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-02-03 15:03:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
excellent ending.
i feel like that's what I lack the most, so it's nice to see someone else tight the knot so nicely.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-02-03 14:25:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
very cool. I like that once I started reading this I kind of zoned out everything but the story and was captured to the very end.
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2006-02-03 13:35:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
...Except the pearl jam series. It's not just sex, it's incestuous rape.
Damn, looks like I have some reading to do.
Another +2, because I just especially liked this story.
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-02-03 11:45:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i want a guy to stalk me like that. it seemed like a safe stalker.
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2006-02-03 02:16:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Pack up
I'm straight
Enough
Oh, say say say
Wait, they don't love you like i love you
Ma-a-a-a-ps, wait!
They don't love you like i love you...
Made off
Don't stray
My kind's your kind
I'll stay the same
Pack up
Don't stray
Oh, say say say
Ma-a-a-aps, wait!
They don't love you like i love you...
Ma-a-a-a-ps, wait!
They don't love you like i love you...
--------
pleasure to get my ass kicked by you i'm sure...
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-02-03 00:49:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
I liked it. It was sad, and kind of speaks volumes to me about missed opportunities. It didn't knock my socks off though, and in competitions like this, I tend to be a little stingier with my +2's.
I think the boy's voice was a bit off, to me. He didn't really talk like a boy, yet somehow I pictured him as pretty young.
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2006-02-02 22:38:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice.
I reserve the right to come back and drop a +1 if I like your opponants better.
Submitted by pragmatic (user info) at 2006-02-02 19:09:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You had me perched on the edge of my chair, waiting for the dismemberment, or the poison, or suicide... and then there wasn't, but it turned out I liked it better this way.
Fantastic
Submitted by RonArtestPunch (user info) at 2006-02-02 18:52:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
That was a hell of a post.
Good work.
Submitted by YELLOW-MAN (user info) at 2006-02-02 18:43:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-02-02 18:42:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
All right, I gotta leave the library. I won't be online for a while...I'll try to check back one the 4th or 5th or 6th (?) for my next entry.
Happy Valentines Day everybody!
(Note: This story is not based off any specific relationship I've had or my current relationship, but more of just a general feeling of rejection and knowing that the "perfect" girl is not perfect as she seems.)
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2006-02-02 18:42:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-02-02 18:32:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2006-02-02 18:25:05 (#)
Ranking: 2
I really liked this one. I surprising lack of death and dismemberment in this one, though.
----------
My stories do sometimes tend to be a little violent. I've left sex and language for the most part out of them.
...Except the pearl jam series. It's not just sex, it's incestuous rape.
If that's not a hitwhoringly good description, then you don't love me like I love you.
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2006-02-02 18:25:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I really liked this one. I surprising lack of death and dismemberment in this one, though.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-02-02 18:23:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-02-02 18:18:40 (#)
Ranking: 2
brilliantly done.
nice touch, setting it in Dublin.
although, jaded fucker that I am, I expected you end it by having him trigger the Semtex strapped across his body...
---------
aw...that would be so unromantic.
I love Dublin, it's one of my favorite cities in the world.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-02-02 18:18:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
brilliantly done.
nice touch, setting it in Dublin.
although, jaded fucker that I am, I expected you end it by having him trigger the Semtex strapped across his body...