3f#26 – jigsaw
How did I know he loved me? I figured it from the second serious story he wrote for me, Jigsaw. I don’t believe I’ve ever shared this one; he said it was just for us. He wrote it before we met in person, sometime in July that summer. It imagined a school weekend, casey and mark with Mr. Penn, and it ended with the two of them putting the pieces together, working out that this was the real deal, life-mangling, life-restoring.
He was married. Jigsaw called the bluff on our ostensibly platonic friendship. My parents’ marriage had ended in divorce; I refused to be an Other Woman. I remember falling on my knees in my study, sobbing and imploring God to help, somehow. I was not religious at this point, so this impulse was as spontaneous as it was extraordinary. Here I was—here we were—being vivisected by this love, yet I did not want to help destroy anyone’s marriage. I had no idea what the near or distant future held, I only knew it was utterly insane to feel as though my entire existence—all 26 years of it—had been permanently rearranged by this Englishman I had never met face-to-face.
I remember the calm that came over me, not lessening the acute emotion, but muting it for a moment, and I remember the irrational certainty, like a rumbling in my stomach, that if I merely sat back and waited, doing nothing, all would be well, and all would be well, and all manner of means would be well…
Arrgh…again, not quite fiction. And a topic that deserves much more thorough dealing. Half-way through writing it, I wanted to delete it and start again. However, I have this…attitude?…philosophy? that once something starts to write itself, one really ought not to give up on it, or censure it. In a way, those are the rules. I’m not sure I would stick with them in all circumstances, but I did today. Forgive any flippancy this 250-word treatment suggests. And please, if you can, refrain from drawing conclusions about me. I was, at that time, astoundingly naive.
What is Flash Fiction Friday?
Read the other folks writing this week:
October 24th, 2009 at 10:50 pm
FWIW, my marriage was on its last gasp when Paul and I started emailing. Neither of us realized we were falling in love until we actually had — I had no experience with how deeply one could grow to feel about another via email.
I don’t consider that I was unfaithful — I left and ended our marriage as soon as I could once I realized I felt so little for my husband that even words on a screen could create more intimacy than we had in our house. What my correspondence with him did was make it clear I was too young to settle for such an empty life.
Paul didn’t help destroy my first marriage. But the fact I could fall in love with him by email was proof it was already over. It would have been even if we’d never met face-to-face.
cdm Reply:
October 24th, 2009 at 11:11 pm
Mija,
This is so clearly said. I wish I could have explained it like that, because this is precisely what happened with me and M. Thank you so much for taking the time to put it into words.
xo
October 25th, 2009 at 11:43 am
[...] that are not entertaining, but a true part of living, attract fewer comments. (Casey, “jigsaw” was an amazing 250 words. Wouldn’t it be awkward for 10 people to cheerfully shout out [...]
October 26th, 2009 at 2:59 am
Divorce is always so painful for kids – half the time they think it must have been something they did. And of course it’s bad enough for us as well. The writing gives us an excuse for introspection I think – and a chance to work through our feelings.
Being the Other Woman seems to be rather painful for most women I’ve met. Elizabeth Edwards’ comments resonated to a lot of players – perhaps it had an good effect from a bad situation.