Rise or Fall (271 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 0.66 on 3 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Pentameter (View user info) at 2006-10-09 18:21:06 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
"Thunder or lightning?" Melissa asked as she flipped through the pages of a National Geographic.
"Um, lightning," Paul answered.
"Day or night?"
"Definitely night."
"Summer or...."
"Melissa, I really need to finish grading these essays, all right? Can we finish this later?"
She had a habit of doing that...flipping through the pages of a magazine and asking him questions while he was trying to work. Sometimes it made him so angry, he wished he were heartless enough to hit her. His rage smoldered and simmered deep within him, and he restrained it with every cell in his body.
"Why do you have to be that way?" she asked.
"Oh, you mean, why do I have to work?"
Paul hated when Melissa's lower jaw would quiver - her eyes would get all red, and she'd start sniffling. In the five years of their relationship, he never saw her cry. As she stood there, in the doorway, he saw the beginning of a tear in her eye.
"I'm fucking leaving," she said.
In a frenzy, she grabbed her purse, keys and coat, and slammed the door so hard behind her that the molding he had just put up the weekend before cracked right off of the wall.
He muttered, "Psycho," to himself as he continued grading.
Since he would be alone for the rest of the afternoon, Paul decided he would relax by sitting at the big bay window which looked out onto the street. Ever since he was a child, he loved to watch the world move around him, wishing that he could be a part of the frenzy of life. Now, he was old enough to swim with the current, yet he still felt as though he was being left behind.
Cars drove past, and Paul made mental notes of the colors and makes. He became caught in the rhythm, hypnotized by the sound the tires made on the pavement. As he sat there watching traffic flow, he noticed a rabbit dart out into the road.
Paul held his breath.
When he was eleven, he and his brother, Andrew, found a rabbit whose leg had been injured. Together, they decided they were going to nurse it back to health and set it free in the woods. His brother built a makeshift cage and Paul filled it with straw. Every night, before Paul went to bed, he would check on the rabbit to make sure it was all right.
After a few weeks, Paul and Andy decided that the rabbit was well enough to set free. Paul opened the cage and pulled the rabbit out, but the rabbit bucked and broke free from his grip. The rabbit zipped around the side of their house, where he skittered into traffic because his leg was not fully healed.
The rabbit did not make it across the road.
Paul loved that rabbit. He had cared for it, fed it and gave it attention so that it would survive, and in the end, it didn't matter. He could not save it.
For days, he cried, and on most of those days he didn't even eat. His mother was worried, but his father was angered by his behavior. As Paul pushed his peas around on his plate, his father stared at him from across the table.
"Son," he said in a stern voice, "You have to let it go."
"No!" Paul shouted. He got up from the table and ran into his room, where he laid on his bed and sobbed until he fell asleep.
The next morning, Paul's father woke him up before the sun rose. "We're going to the beach," he said.
"Now?"
"Yes, now."
When they arrived at the beach, Paul's father said, "I want you to look at where the shoreline is now."
Paul looked out to where the water met the sand. He pointed and said, "It's down there."
"All right. Now, when the water starts creeping closer to us, I want you to stop it. Do you think you can do it?" his father asked.
"I don't know. I guess I can try," Paul said.
Hours later, Paul dug his feet into the sand and tried with all of his strength to stop the water. He built a damn, which was quickly flooded. He ran into the surf, flailing against the waves in an effort to beat them back.
"I...I can't do it, Dad," he said with tears in his eyes.
His father kneeled down in front of him, and took Paul's hands in his, and said, "There are some things in this world, no matter how hard you try, that you can stop. You can fight, you can use all of your strength, but in the end, the flow of life is going to win. Don't be sad, Paul. Sometimes, the only thing you can do is go with the rising and falling of the waves. Choose your battles. Make changes where you can. I want you to remember this day for the rest of your life, and I want you to remember that today was the day when you learned to let go."
The sound of a horn roused him from his reverie. For the first time in a long time, he felt the uncontrollable urge to scream, to smash the walls and to let the tears he had been holding back for so long finally flow. He thought of his father on that day at the beach, and how he wanted nothing for his son but to be able to live a happy life.
So far, Paul felt as though he had failed. The list of broken promises was longer than he cared to admit, and it was all because he taken the easy path in life. All of the dreams he had were forsaken for a 401(k), a Mercury Milan and a woman who he didn't love anymore, and probably never even loved at all.
He knew Melissa would be home soon. She could never stay away for too long, because she always told Paul that her greatest fear was coming back to an empty house. The fact was, even when he was there, the house was always empty. There would be tears, embraces and sex on the floor. Melissa would cook dinner, open a bottle of wine and promise not to bother him while he was working. Paul would hold her and promise he wouldn't get angry over little things.
And they'd do it all over again the next week.
As he took his seat back at his desk, he heard a car door slam. With a heavy sigh, he prepared himself for the onslaught of emotion that he would have to endure.
Melissa walked in and quietly closed the door behind her. Paul expected a passionate hug and teary eyes, but he was met with a cold stare and a stoic expression.
"Hi Melissa," he said.
Without saying a word, she dropped her coat on the couch, sat down and curled up with a magazine.
"Melissa, I...."
"Don't say anything, Paul. I know where this is headed. I thought about it a lot, and I think that we shouldn't be together anymore."
He wasn't surprised. In fact, he was quite relieved. "I was thinking the same thing."
"I'm not really in the mood to talk about it right now. We'll sort everything out later," she said.
"Yeah."
"I mean, we can only fight windmills for so long, right?"
"Yeah, I just...."
"Paul?" she asked.
"Yeah?"
"Waves - rising or falling?" she asked.
With dark eyes and a half smile, he said, "Crashing."
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