Everything dies in the end…
						(One year, Two years, Six years Later... ) He was sitting at his desk deep into the daily routine of trying to make money for the family when the phone rang. It was her. He shivered, flooded by the torrent of memories running wild through his mind. Both the wonderful, full of life and happiness kind, and the painful, mop the floor with my soul kind of memories. "Hello" he opens "it's been awhile". "You're right" she offered and they slid comfortably into small talk. "What's new?" she asked. "Nothing much" he said. It still hurts when he thinks about it. The feeling that his life is slowly slipping away and not doing enough to make it matter. Ever since she left there has been a feeling that nothing important is happening or ever going to happen. "That's not good" she said agreeing with his tone of voice. "No it's not but how have you been?" he said trying to make her the subject of the conversation. God I miss her, miss being part of her life, part of her. I need to know what's going on in her pretty head, soul, find out if she still needs me. "I'm fine and how are the kids?" "OK" he answered, "they are growing up fast". "I hear you've got a new job, how is it going?" she changed the subject. He answers with work talk. "Fine, going good and really fun, I'm learning new things again and that's great". He spends the next three minutes throwing the big "see what I know" words at her trying to make an impression. A bit of professionalism always did help to keep the conversation fluid and moving. He recalls with a deep sigh how easy it is to talk to her. So easy that sometimes he doesn't have to speak at all. Like talking to someone who understands him as well as he understands himself. "How's work with you," he asked trying to turn the conversation back to her, "did you manage to finish that project in the end?" "I'm doing OK and yes" she said sighing a little deeper then she needed to. He'd been waiting for that, hoping and hating himself for it. That's how he picked up the little quivering in her voice. As always that was enough to touch all those male "I'll take care of you" buttons he is so proud of. "What's going on?" he asked, "with you I mean". "Nothing" He's not surprised that she's trying to back down but he still gets hurt every time she tries to keep him out. So he tries again, pushing harder this time. "Are you sure everything's all right?" "Everything's is going great, school and work are fine..." But he can tell she's cracked a little, showing a bit of the dispare, urging him to pry. He does. "How are you really doing, Is there anything I can do?" "Well now that you asked..." and the conversation goes one level deeper. She tells him the usual story about her, her life, her family, her love that she keeps tightly bound up in her guilty mind. Her sorrow always makes him feel sad, profoundly sad, and guilty too. Guilty of taking a young girl and ruining her life in order to fulfill his own need for warmth and love. But then again she still loved him, he knew that, and resented her for tearing his heart out and throwing it away while she still needed him. She stops, afraid. "I can't go any further" she states, "it's too hard, too painful". He can tell that more then anything she's afraid of herself. Of what might happen if she were to let go, what did happen the last time she did let go. He wished more then anything to make her happy again. But that means getting out of her life and that would be just to much to bear. Again he felt that familiar pain in his side. The pain of losing her. Like so many times before he panicked and grabbed. "Don't close up on me, again, like you have now for the last year/two years/six years"... he tried, but she was gone already. Not in words maybe but she was back behind her wall again waiting for the uncomfortable closeness to pass. When the silence became unbearable he asked. "Maybe?" "No", she said in words, "it's just not possible, I can't bear it." But he knew that didn't he. "To bad, I wish that somehow, maybe someday, please don't say never.' "Maybe not never" she sighed. He realized that she was throwing him a bone and he was grateful, it's not like she had to or anything. They slid silently back into small talk mode... kids, work, husband, wife. "It was nice talking to you, I'll call again some time we can chat or something like that". Like maybe next year, he thought to himself. "Yah... thanks," He replied. "Bye". One year, Two years, Six years Later...

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