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Date Posted: 09:26:04 12/27/07 Thu
Author: .
Subject: Decision

Title: Decision
Prompt: A good friendship is often more important than a passionate
romance
Word Count: 1460
Category: romance
Rating: R for intent


********************

Decision

It's late Friday evening, Christmas Eve, and I'm alone tonight. There were other plans, places to go, people to be with then the plans changed. The tree lights are glowing but my holiday spirit is gone. Music- the choice CD for now: A tribute to Ray Charles and his soulful blues. His music makes me mellow and insightful. A woman's need emerges, words, words as answers, sweet words that can only satisfy this
questioning heart.

I logon to my email-no new messages-none from him, and then, I look through the archived messages, seeking for that one special reply. As I scroll, I read, in some cases, memorize the text, remembering each nuance, each tiny written affection he has written. His last dated days ago: 'Hey Ninja Girl, Chinese tonight?'

I emailed back my dinner choices: Hot & Sour Soup, Dragon's choice: Beef, Shrimp & Chicken, Lo-Mein.

He forwards back, 'Dinner in an hour'.

Tonight I decided to challenge his delay to "talk," to try "the conversation" once again. Ever since that night in Paraguay, "....This thing between us.....we can't move on...., ....we can't stay this way" We've been dancing around "this thing" for years. It's time for the dance to end.

He arrives with dinner, a multitude of take-out containers. I arrange the table, we enjoy the feast and share the words from the crispy little cookies.

Who would have thought that a silly slip of paper in a fortune cookie could have sparked dialogue between us. 'A good friendship is often more important than a passionate romance' it read.

He asked my thoughts. "Mac, Are we just good friends? Or do you want more?" In that sexy, deep voice of his, he states, "I do."

My reaction must have startled him, I started to answer his questions - "Ring_NGGG"-that damn ring of his cell phone, another interruption, another complication. "Sorry, got to answer this." as he places the phone to his ear.

He looked stunned, mouthing the words he heard over the phone, "Died? Heart attack! When?....Ok..I'll leave right now."

"Who? I ask. "Your mom? Frank?"

"My grandmother Sarah," he replies. There is a mournful sadness in those azure blue eyes of his, of the emotions he's holding back. "I have to go to Belleville, got things to take care of. I'll be gone a few days"

He grabs his jacket, "I'll email you what's happening." Then as he leaves, he kisses my forehead, "Sorry, Mac."

That was five days ago...

I logon to my email-no new messages-none from him, and then, I look through the archived messages, seeking for that one special reply. I wrote him a long email, explaining my decision. It wasn't an easy task to do.

At last I find the intended message, it was his reply to my "Decision" that contained questions that he asked of himself......the self-directed insights intrigued me.

He inquires deep within: God, how do I answer your probing questions without being close. How do I express myself without the fear of crying. Do I want to cry in front of you? Do I want to let down my guard?

And my heart replies, Yes.

YES, LET GO!....let go of that damn lifeline! It's dragging us both down.!

In my email, I wrote to him.

'I think there is a need for us to hold and hug each other close. Yes, I would lay naked with you and we could cuddle tightly in each other's arms.'

I believe he needs to be given time to weep. The sudden loss of his Grandmother Sarah to a heart attack devastated him. She was his grounding rock, the one woman he confided in since a young man. She was there for him, just like me, when he needed...

He had to go to Bellesville for a few days: make arrangements for the funeral, settle her legal estate and to think.

My heart calls out: "Harm... Come to me."....between thumping beats there is hope...There is hope that he will and I could comfort him.

I would hold his face closely to my breast and gently stroke his head, feeling the softness of his hair, tenderly massaging his worried brow.I would place the tiniest of kisses to his lips and I'd whisper-"It's ok to cry" and wait for him to sob.. As I brushed away my own tears, I would encourage him to let go. "I'm holding you tight, I got you, you won't fall" We have no secrets between us any more....only truth.

I would tuck the covers around us, to keep our embrace warm and encourage him to rest. I would imagine this time and time again; As a lover, I'd offer him his desires and softly stroke his body until sleep became his pleasure. And we would become one by the power of this intimate consolation, our love would grow and live on. As his friend: I'd listen, be true, challenge him and offer encouragement when need-Marine-Corp style.

He has other concerns that are raised: Is sex really that important, isn't just the knowledge that there is still love there -- enough. O'shit... why don't I just shut up and be the bastard that most men are. Why do I feel? Why do I care?

I have thoughts to the necessity of sex. The ringing of those words:

I reply back.

'There are many ways to make love, not just the physical union of sex but the merging of two beloved hearts into one.. You feel because I feel, I care because you still care.......I looked for a long lost friend and found that there is still a deep and strong connection....The
knowledge that love is still there satisfies the loneliness, but the longing is still unsated. It's the pleasure of the giving between a man and a woman that keeps the bonds strong...the burning of two flames that fuel the desire..........'

I often wonder how often he thought of me over the last nine years. Did we cry out silently for each other in the night? Did our instincts hear? Often I've asked of myself, How many times did I want to reach out?

When I finally did...complications! His, Mine, The Navy...others, always something coming between us.
"...Us, Harm...there is no us..." Words uttered in frustration, words that changed him.

"Never to lose you" He once whispered on that fateful day. "...There is someone who will always love you..."

Those words I still carry in my beloved heart, he's my soulmate/friend. If I knew then, what I know now, it would be me the one asking "Marry me"

Live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove

But alas, fate has reared it's ugly head and what will be, will be.............loved hearts.

The phone rings and I pray, hope to all hopes that it's him. By some magic of telepathic connection, that he received my thoughts: cellular brain waves crossing the distance between us.

I answer, my heart beating in my throat, "Hello"...OH, Hi, Clay...I was just thinking about you" I lied, those words stumble across my lips.

He asks if I'm all right. "Sarah, you sound funny. Are you feeling OK?"

"Yes" Again, I lied, my spirit falls like broken glass. I barely hear the rest of the conversation, ending it abruptly. Rambling thoughts: Clayton Webb gave so much to protect me from the terrorists. He lost so much of his health, his abilities...I owe him so much...the least I could give him is love. But he knows there is no future, our fights, the arguments revolve around me and Harm.

"He's using you" Clay would yell....and I wonder: Who's using who?

As the midnight hour approaches, I dim the Christmas tree lights, silence the stereo and prepare for bed. As my eyes get heavy with sleep, darkness, once again becomes my friend, and I'll grab the softest of pillows and hold it tightly against my chest. In my dreams, my thoughts will be of thee.

Alas, the sounds of the night cause me to toss and turn and form into shadows that become monsters of my past. And then...

I feel a warm body climb beneath the covers and he cradles me in his muscular embrace. A deep familiar voice whispers, "Mac, I'm home."

He snuggles closer and I accept the decision that fate allowed: best friends, soul mates, lovers and maybe more, husband & wife, parents, perhaps growing old together.

Our emotions were high, I sobbed briefly in his arms, he kissed my tears away......and we made love.........slow and erotically sweet......a memory still warm and special, even to this day.

All due to one silly little saying in the fortune cookie of life.

'A good friendship is often more important than a passionate romance'

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Replies:

[> Good story! -- -----, 09:42:03 12/27/07 Thu [1]

We always need to have a deep spiritual connection with God and with each other. Good Job!


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[> Beautifully done! -- JAG Junkie (Ronda), 10:10:40 12/27/07 Thu [1]


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[> That was heartwarming and beautiful well done . -- Bev uk, 10:27:49 12/27/07 Thu [1]


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[> Wonderful, well done, I could see this happening. Thank you -- usmgrad, 11:41:26 12/27/07 Thu [1]


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[> *SIGH* How sweet! -- --, 12:46:00 12/27/07 Thu [1]


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