“No, there is not a thin line between love and hate. There is, in fact, a Great Wall of China with armed sentries posted every twenty feet between love and hate.”
Hugh Laurie as Dr. Gregory House, from the television series, "House"
Image source Wikimedia Commons.
“ Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship. ”
Hmmm......shades of Katherine Hepburn.
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From Sex and the City¹:
Ahem...... ;)
¹ Season 3, "Easy Come, Easy Go"
Image from Wikipedia.
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[To read the complete story, click here.]
Driving home after dinner, she thought about all the years that she had been without Joe. Two marriages, and one child later, she still could not get him out of her head.
Opening the window to clear her mind, she turned on the music, and was singing along with Deborah Harry when she pulled in to the driveway.
Throwing her handbag on to a chair, she kicked her heels off, and walked over to the phone to check her messages.
Two messages. One from her gyno's office, reminding her to keep her appointment on Monday, and another from Joe.
She took a deep breath and backed away from the phone. He must have hit *69 in order to get the last number calling him. He was polite, and wondering who the person was, or if, perhaps, they had simply dialed the wrong number.
The cat was rubbing up against her leg, and grabbing her, she went over to the couch to consider whether she really wished to call him back. She was very afraid that either he was "taken", or that they would no longer have anything to say to each other. God, she could procrastinate forever.....had always been exceptionally good at that.
That had been part of the problem with Joe.....
Joe had changed after her miscarriage. He began drinking more, and staying out until the early hours of the morning. She also thought that he might be in to drugs, although she couldn't be sure. Still, she said nothing.
When he was away at a gig, she sometimes heard the voices of women in the background, when he called her from his room. She never asked him about those voices. She knew he felt guilty about what had happened to her, and she was hoping that he would work his way through it, even if it was killing her.
Still, she cried herself to sleep many nights, missing the way it used to be, and wondering whose bed he was in. She didn't think that she could take much more.....the pain was consuming her life.
Finally, it all came to a head. One evening, a friend called her, and told her where Joe was on that particular night. She could no longer ignore it, no longer pretend that everything would be the way it used to be.
She waited for him to come home, and when he walked in, she pointed to the suitcases she had packed for him, and told him to get out. He begged her to reconsider, promising her the moon, the stars, and fidelity, but she was adamant. She wanted him gone. Now. No more lies, no more excuses, she was through with him. He finally left, and she, feeling as cold as ice, virtually cut out her own heart.
The naivete of twenty-three was gone.
She decided to make a decision tomorrow. Scarlett O'Hara had nothing on her. Turning off the lights, she went upstairs and was soon asleep.
Continue reading "Joe - An Original Short Story - Part 4 - The End" »
Please read only if you are over 17. | Two days before her wedding, she was at her parents home, busy with the final preparations for the wedding. It was to be outdoors, a garden setting, and attended by family and friends. Her mother brought her a cup of tea, and she gratefully accepted it, taking it in to the library. Sitting there, lost in thought, she heard the phone ring in the distance. Her father answered, and she heard his voice rise. She stood up, her intuition telling her that something was wrong, and then began to walk to her father's office where he was on the phone with someone.
"Leave her alone, damn it! She's happy now, and she's getting married." her father's voice fairly teemed with annoyance. "The wedding is in two days. You are not invited." Almost yelling, her father crossed the room to her, and slung his arm around her shoulder. "Don't call her again." With that, her father slammed down the phone, and hugged her.
"It was Joe", he said, in response to the question written all over her face. She was stunned, and tears shimmered in her eyes. It had only been a couple of years since they had gone their separate ways. She knew then that she still loved him.........
She saw his name on the Google page, and felt a sense of trepidation. He was very likely now married, possibly with children. [She wondered if he ever thought of their child that she had miscarried. She did. All the time.] She could see that he was still in the music business; that was pretty clear from the search entries. She decided to call him, just to say "hello, how are you, have a nice life", and let the chips fall where they might. She googled the white pages for his number, and picked up the phone....
Her wedding was beautiful. The makeup artist had managed to cover up the dark circles under her eyes, and the wedding had gone off without a single major problem. As she and Trevor left for their honeymoon, she was happy, and had stopped thinking about the call from Joe. She wanted nothing more than to make this union a great marriage, one which she hoped would include at least two or three children.
She stepped in to the limo, and turning to Trevor, told him she loved him, laughing at her own excitement in starting their new life together. That night, she only thought of Joe once, in her dreams...........
Three years earlier......
The wind was strong that day, and she couldn't stop shivering. Joe walked up behind her and enveloped her in his embrace, transmitting his warmth to her body. She turned in his arms, and kissed him, deeply, with the passion of a woman who is totally, completely, in love.
The deck was tilting slightly, and she felt a bit queasy. She leaned in to Joe, and told him she wished to go home. He looked at her a little oddly, and taking a deep breath, she told him that she was carrying his child. She was exactly eleven weeks pregnant, and had been hesitant to discuss it with him, not even sure how she felt about it.
Joe stood there, wonder, trepidation, and love in his eyes, and all fighting to win. He tentatively reached out a hand and placed it on her stomach, trying to imagine the baby growing inside. His baby, and hers. The culmination of a great love.
He laughed out loud, and picked her up to carry her inside the cabin. She melted when he laid her on the bed, and tearing his shirt off, she begged him to fuck her. Now. And as they made love, her mind was filled with only him. How much she loved him.......and how eerie the fear felt, even as they made love.
Later that night, the pain awakened her. She stumbled from the bed, clutching her stomach, and made it in to the bathroom, where she collapsed. Joe found her a few minutes later, crying as though she were broken, and the blood everywhere.
He carried her to the bed, and staunched the blood flow with towels, and then radioed ahead to have an ambulance waiting. He cried as the boat flew towards the shore, cursing himself for not taking her home the previous evening.
She dialed his number, and was greeted by his voice on the answering service. She listened for a moment, breathing in the sound.....it had been so very long. A little nervous, she left no message, but rather, decided to call back the following day. She quickly shut down her computer before getting ready to go out for the evening.
At dinner with her brother, they discussed many things, but she did manage to refrain from mentioning Joe even once; in truth, he was all she thought about. Tomorrow could not arrive soon enough.
Copyright © by Inspire Emotion 2008. All rights are reserved.
Related Posts:
Part One of "Joe"
Part Two of "Joe"
Joe - An Original Short Story - Part 4 - The End
To read the complete story, click here.
“Yes !” I answered you last night ;
“No !” this morning, Sir, I say !
Colours, seen by candle-light,
Will not look the same by day.
When the tabors played their best,
Lamps above, and laughs below —
Love me sounded like a jest,
Fit for Yes or fit for No !
Call me false, or call me free —
Vow, whatever light may shine,
No man on your face shall see
Any grief for change on mine.
Yet the sin is on us both —
Time to dance is not to woo —
Wooer light makes fickle troth —
Scorn of me recoils on you !
Learn to win a lady's faith
Nobly, as the thing is high ;
Bravely, as for life and death —
With a loyal gravity.
Lead her from the festive boards,
Point her to the starry skies,
Guard her, by your truthful words,
Pure from courtship's flatteries.
By your truth she shall be true —
Ever true, as wives of yore —
And her Yes, once said to you,
SHALL be Yes for evermore. ”
Image of Browning's tomb on the Cimitero degli Inglesi, Florence, Italy from Wikimedia Commons.
Damn it! She felt her leg cramp up, and jumped up from the bed, her reverie broken in an attempt to stop the cramping. Hopping around, she finally achieved her aim, and hesitant to risk another cramp so soon, she went downstairs to make a cup of coffee. Coffee. On New Year's Eve, night of couples only, or at the least, families. Her family was scattered. Her mother had died a few years earlier, and she was now the only woman in a family of single men. Men who all had either an SO or a GF with whom to spend NY Eve.
As she waited for the coffee to brew, she wandered in to the dining room, and sat down on the window seat. The cat startled her when she jumped up in to her lap, intruding on her memories of another night.......
| If you are under 17, if descriptions of a sexual nature offend you, or if you are my Dad, or my brothers, please discontinue reading here, as the continuation of this story does contain some If you have not yet read Part 1, go here first. |
“For a kiss to be really good, you want it to mean something. You want it to be with someone you can’t get out of your head, so that when your lips finally touch you feel it everywhere. A kiss so hot and so deep you never want to come up for air. You can’t cheat your first kiss. Trust me, you don’t want to. Cause when you find that right person for a first kiss, it’s everything. ”
"Alex", Grey's Anatomy
She flopped down on her bed, resignation in her movement. She was tired of being alone. Not that being alone is a bad thing, but it had been a very long time. In fact, the longest period in her life of not having a man around. She was wondering if she should attempt to do something about it. But even the thought made her cringe. While sex was still easy to accomplish, she was wondering about the possibility that no one would want her for an actual relationship at her "advanced age". Then too, there was the possibility of being hurt, a thing that she didn't think she could tolerate at this point in her life. She had been so used to being pursued by men, of being able to choose whomever she wanted, that now, it was very difficult for her to feel so much less in control. Turning over, she sighed. She was remembering so many things lately............
He strode up to her at the bar; tall, tan, beautiful curly black hair and chiseled features-------gorgeous, as in Greek God gorgeous. She was twenty-three, and still very naive.
From Season 4, Grey's Anatomy
Izzie to Meredith: I love George.
Meredith: Oh, God...
Izzie: I do, I love him, and I'm so happy because he's kind and smart and um, sweet and sexy. He's perfect, perfect, except for the fact that he kisses like a chicken. You know a chicken pecking the ground for food, just pecking and pecking and pecking, and when he's pecking at me like that I forget that I love him, I forget that he's kind and sweet and sexy and I just wanna scream, "Stop pecking me!"
Inspire Note: Poor George..... 
The letter quoted below was written in 1845 by the English writer, Charlotte Brontë to her professor, Constantin Heger, a married man. The feelings that she had for him appear to have been unrequited, as there has been no evidence found of any sort of romantic relationship.
“ January 8, 1845
Monsieur, the poor have not need of much to sustain them -- they ask only for the crumbs that fall from the rich man's table. But if they are refused the crumbs they die of hunger. Nor do I, either, need much affection from those I love. I should not know what to do with a friendship entire and complete - I am not used to it. But you showed me of yore a little interest, when I was your pupil in Brussels, and I hold on to the maintenance of that little interest -- I hold on to it as I would hold on to life. ”
Although Brontë was well known for her writing, most notably for the novel, "Jane Eyre", one of the most famous of British novels, she was much less well known for her paintings, which while somewhat unschooled, in my opinion, showed a great deal of promise.
Sources: Margaret Lane (1953) The Brontë Story: a reconsideration of Mrs Gaskell's Life of Charlotte Brontë
Article Copyright © by Inspire Emotion 2008. All rights are reserved. No re-posting of articles without prior written permission is allowed.
“ Love: A temporary insanity curable by marriage. ”
Inspire Note: During his life, Bierce's nickname was "Bitter Bierce"¹, based on his sardonic view of human nature. Imagine being married to such an unromantic man...
¹source: Wikipedia
“A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.”
Ingrid Bergman
Fanny Brawne was literally the girl next door, when John Keats met her at the age of 23. This letter was written in March of 1820, less than one year prior to his death from tuberculosis in February 1821.
“Sweetest Fanny,
You fear, sometimes, I do not love you so much as you wish? My dear Girl I love you ever and ever and without reserve. The more I have known you the more have I lov'd. In every way - even my jealousies have been agonies of Love, in the hottest fit I ever had I would have died for you. I have vex'd you too much. But for Love! Can I help it? You are always new. The last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest. When you pass'd my window home yesterday, I was fill'd with as much admiration as if I had then seen you for the first time. You uttered a half complaint once that I only lov'd your Beauty. Have I nothing else then to love in you but that? Do not I see a heart naturally furnish'd with wings imprison itself with me? No ill prospect has been able to turn your thoughts a moment from me. This perhaps should be as much a subject of sorrow as joy - but I will not talk of that. Even if you did not love me I could not help an entire devotion to you: how much more deeply then must I feel for you knowing you love me. My Mind has been the most discontented and restless one that ever was put into a body too small for it. I never felt my Mind repose upon anything with complete and undistracted enjoyment - upon no person but you. When you are in the room my thoughts never fly out of window: you always concentrate my whole senses. The anxiety shown about our Love in your last note is an immense pleasure to me; however you must not suffer such speculations to molest you any more: not will I any more believe you can have the least pique against me. Brown is gone out -- but here is Mrs Wylie -- when she is gone I shall be awake for you. -- Remembrances to your Mother.
Your affectionate, J. Keats”
An eclectic, personal collection of quotations intended to encourage you to smile or think, poems, love letters, original short stories, and notes to myself, along with a healthy dose of political opinion. |
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- It's All About Hormones and Life is Not Freakin' Fair!
- Not Politics Anymore and a Moral Conundrum
- Notable Republican/Conservative Endorsements of Barack Obama
- Sarah and Todd Palin and the Alaskan Independence Party - AIP Ties to Iran
- Sarah Palin Engendering Racial Hatred
- Joe - An Original Short Story
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