Protected: in the beginning

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it takes two

Scene 1: The first time they met

Derek: You’re ignoring me.
Meredith: Um, trying to.
Derek: You shouldn’t ignore me.
Meredith: Why not?
Derek: Because I’m someone you need to get to know to love.
Meredith: Really?
Derek: Oh yes.
Meredith: So if I know you, I’ll love you?
Derek: Oh yes.
Meredith: You really like yourself, huh?

Pick a scene. Random scenes, plucked from TV shows. That’s fiction.

Behind the scene. There’s the reality. Real-life drama, unfolding. This minute, now.

Tonight, she’s flying off, just two days after the awful truth. Far away from the man she married, loved, supported, with all her heart, and all her money. So he cheated on her. Love wrecked. She’ll keep asking, why? And he’ll keep saying, I’m sorry. She says, Sorry? But I’m all broken.

How does one avoid tripping on the broken shards, the painful fragments separating the fictions we create, and the reality we inhabit?

She waited at the bar, tousled hair swishing
at every door swing, but he didn’t show.

He’s wrestling with his demons, kicking
sand, hands thrust in his pocket, dawdling.

She smiled, held the slender stem of
the glass, ruby red lips perfectly still.

He lunged with his partner on the dance
floor, twisty with their dirty little secret.

She checked his text messages, unpicked
a spool of lies, bookings on a hooker racket.

He stumbled onto sordid websites, checked into
seedy places, suavely massaging the truth.

After the wreckage, she’ll never wager on falling, yet
again, hook, line and sinker, for another primal male.

After the carnage, he’ll never raise himself up, woozy
in wedlock, wanking without, downhill ever after.