Thursday, September 21, 2006

Loving Lisa

She had trouble breathing, thinking, moving. Had one of her vital organs been removed? It felt like it.
Tears: she hadn't shed any. She was beyond tears. She was numb. Her brain's valiant effort to protect her from the truth.
The truth: what was that? His ring was still on her finger. There was their wedding picture. They looked so happy - so much in love. Joined together by a promise. Had he broken this promise? Did he still love her? What was the truth?
All she trusted were her emotions. She felt abandoned. She felt the distance between them.
They had always been of different worlds. Her constantly in her head analyzing, dissecting, categorizing, creating. She would sit at her easel for hours: paint splashing across the white canvas. He constantly in his body pumping weights, jogging, swimming, kayaking always in motion. A ray of light bouncing around the earth.
How he hated her dark moods. He was always pushing her towards treatment. Fix yourself - you're broken. Your not allowed to feel negative. You must feel good. "Aren't you happy?" He proudly hung her paintings of sunshine and sweet things but her dark, moody creations were segregated to her studio walls. "Why did you paint that?" She felt he was attacking her. How they fought. It was unnatural to be perpetually happy. It was false.
Had she driven him away. She liked to think that she had been at least partially responsible. It gave her a sense of control.
Was someone else involved. That was the trouble about living in a small community: it was hard to hide anything. Lately she had noticed a young sweet thing. What was her name? Lisa, yah that was it. She saw how Lisa swallowed him up with her eyes than quickly looked away. Where was he right now? Was he loving Lisa? What was the truth?

Copyright by Leanne Dyck, September 21, 2006


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