There is a house in Carolina that holds a wooden frame. From the outside, the

home seems sturdy enough. Yet I’m not convinced that it will hold under the burden of

my very presence. I had the pleasure of gazing upon it myself once. Nothing too fancy.

You might say that it is down right ordinary. A Wood frame with satin black paint

covering the seams. The fact is I promised I’d see it in person, and a promise made is

always a promise kept. Don’t get me wrong, there were moments that I felt the three

hundred and fifty mile journey was well worth the trouble. After all, this visit was made

to ensure our love was real. At my arrival, I was greeted like a member of the royal

family. I was lavished with attention that swept feelings through me of years gone by. It

cast my memory back to a time when I could easily remember every birthday that had

passed. She had a love for me that could not easily be contained or easily denied for that

matter. I could see it in her eyes and feel it in her touch..

The moment we said our hellos I was ushered into an automobile with praises of

glory. When we reached the house in Carolina I could feel my heart sink as if I was man

in the ocean in search of a life preserver. Again I was quickly ushered into the modest

abode with no time to admire the scenery around me. After all, the frame awaited me. I

could feel the tension surround me as her loving eyes sucked me in. I was led into the

main room of the house that held the coveted memento. I stood quietly in front of it

while the woman behind me recounted the story behind the care that was taken to place

the frame in just the right space. I must admit now to you that the very sight of the frame

sickened me to no end. I let my eyes stray from it almost immediately. I felt her arms

slide around my chest like a hand embracing the inside of a glove.

As I turned, her face shined with so much warmth that I had to wince like a child

looking too long into the sun. Her eyes became an open window to me. The

impossibility of her hiding any intent other than love washed over me like cold wind.

She kissed me softly, only releasing my embrace long enough to inhale small breaths to

resume her pleasure. Without notice she stopped and withdrew her affection. She looked

down and returned her gaze hoping to snare my eyes with hers. She spoke of undying

love, and devotion that could never be measured. The words bruised my soul like a

plunge into icy waters. I pressed her close to me bringing her lips against mine. If only

for an instant, just enough to drown her speech from my very ears. How long were we

joined in passion? I could not gauge. Something inside me guessed I’d have drawn the

moment out for an eternity to keep those precious words from crossing her lips once

more. When the time felt right to retreat from her grasp, I witnessed her back away from

me with her eyes firmly closed. My feeble attempt to quiet the emotions that

surrounded us only ignited a flame inside her that could not be dampened.

I guided my choices carefully as not to be consumed by her euphoric state. It was

a time for us to be together, together as one. Thoughts raced in my mind as her voice

battled into my conscience like a radio that wasn’t quite tuned onto the right frequency. I

made out phrases like heartbeats and closeness and forever. Maybe I did hear her

completely, or maybe I fought against it, my will clashing with hers. Two forces of

nature was at work here. A raging fire during a thunderous rainstorm, only one would

prevail. But like all things that are weaker than they appear, the fire that rose inside me

was quickly turned to embers.

On that day, she was never consoled by my understanding arms. Her tears were

never wiped away by my thoughtful hands. She continued on in her state of ignorant

bliss. The time passed slowly for me as a child waiting to open gifts. But it did pass.

When our moment came to an end she remarked of the time flying with the speed of

eagles soaring. In short she spoke of true love. If you were to ask me what a woman

wants I can honestly say I still don’t know. Maybe I never will. In the truer sense,

maybe a woman wants what a man can never provide. As I headed for the door I passed

the black wooden frame that she placed with such gentle care. I forced my head to the

center of it. I could feel the muscles in my neck tighten under the strain. The sickness

returned without warning. I stared into the eyes of the coward that faced me with a sly

expression. An urge to rip the frame containing my picture to floor bubbled up inside but

I fought it off. “you’ll be hanging for at least another day.” I mocked at the pictured

image of myself that merely smiled back to me. With that said I turned and walked back

to her to resume my charade.

The Eclectic Pen » All Stories by Jerry R. (Talon)

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The Eclectic Pen - The Wooden Frame

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