I reread my notes and manuscript for a short piece titled: OF: A Relationship: The Moments. I’m thinking about publishing it through Amazon like I did 4″.
The narrative chronicles an online chat that leads to a turbulent, disturbing real life relationship. I wrote the piece ten years ago and think that enough time has passed so that I can publish the writing objectively. Just have to do the front cover art and design.
The narrative is divided into “Moments” and the “Moments” comprise stanzas that chronicle the relationship through the months of the year.
Here’s a sample of the first “Moment”.
Note: The punctuation and capitalization purposefully depicts the style of each of the characters.
One man stood in the hotel room in the city, waiting.
The other stood just outside the hotel room door, waiting.
One man held his breath, the other knocked on the door.
He opened the door and took a sharp intake of breath.
The other was so handsome; his smile, brilliant.
Four hours of passion, then a hot shower, then a quiet
cab ride across the city, holding hands in the dark
Dinner in a quiet café.
Deep, lingering kisses goodbye.
They had fallen in love.
One man drove back to the mountains from the city.
Seventeen messages were waiting for him.
His heart sang! He was in love.
Every day the two men sent messages and words.
One man was from Virginia.
The other was from Colombia.
Every day they spoke on the phone.
One man loved the sound of the other’s voice.
The other liked the sweet words he heard.
Every night they said “Good night” on the phone.
The two men were happy.
The two men were in love.
The two men were as different as night and day.
One was romantic and American.
The other was practical and Colombian.
But somehow they fit perfectly together.
In bed. In heart. In life.
Fate had brought them together.
The two men chatted online every day, for hours.
One man sent chatty “Good Morning” emails every night.
The other sent “good morning, handsome” emails every morning.
One man was a writer.
The other was a mathematics teacher.
He never used capitals.
One man sat at the kitchen table having coffee. Writing.
The other stood in front of a classroom filled with students. Teaching
He called at noon during his lunch break.
“hey, it’s me,” he said.
“Hey, you!” he replied.
His soft Spanish accented voice thrilled one man.
The other liked his enthusiasm and big moustache.
The two men had fallen in love.
The two men drove through the countryside.
Golds. Yellows. Reds. Ochres. The colours of autumn.
One man placed his hand on the other’s thigh; just to feel connected.
The other placed his hand on top of the one’s hand; just to feel connected.
They talked about their lives, their hopes, their dreams.
One showed the other the Ukrainian churches.
The other took photographs and said, “Take my picture.”
Shyly, the two men looked at one another.
One sighed, the other smiled.
The one snapped the photo.
The two men had fallen in love.
The two men sat in a café in the city.
One man had driven down from the mountains.
The other had taken the subway in from the Bronx.
“I would love to see your apartment,’ said one.
“No, that is impossible,” said the other.
“But, why?” asked one.
“You ask too many questions,” said the other.
“I’ve never been to the Bronx,” said one.
“I live with someone, but it’s over,” the other said.
One man’s heart pounded in his chest.
The other man’s heart was heavy and hard.