He left me. He up and walked out of my life when I said it, and I can't understand why.
When I finally figured it out, why I had been so sick, I knew I had to tell him, had to let him know. Because I thought he was worried.
I guess maybe I was wrong.
I had been feeling like I was dead for the past couple of days, and I couldn't figure it out. I knew about the old myths, the legends about Love, but I thought they were just that: Myths and legends. From what I remembered reading about in school, Love was the mistress of Life. She was a constant threat to him, because Life always had a plan, had Destiny, but Love was a wandering spirit. I learned that when Life warred with Destiny to be with Love, Love was injured, and she was left wounded on the battlefield Life and Destiny had fought upon. I learned that Love has no place in Life's Destiny.
So to love was to sin.
I learned all about these myths, because I was fascinated by it. I was sure that Love could possibly exist, even in my blind and closed-minded society. I was sure that at least some part of Destiny allowed for the sinners to exist, to love.
So when I fell in love with him, I became sick when I wasn't with him. When he went on that business trip, I fell ill. I called him twice a day, sounding worse for the wear in each message.
But he never called back.
When he finally returned home, he didn't seem worried by my condition in the least. He told me it was just a cold and that I would be fine in a few days. I tried to tell him that I had been like this for a week and that colds these days never lasted for more than three days at a time. He wouldn't have it.
As I slowly got sicker, and as my heart slowly got weaker, I realized I knew why I was so sick. Why I was feeling dead. I was feeling what Love had felt as Life left her dying on that war-torn ground. I knew it then, and I knew I had to tell him before I died too. I had to tell him I loved him.
"Mark, I have to talk to you." My voice was improving, I could finally speak again. There was a sigh on his end of the phone, then speech.
"Fine, Cady, I'll come over there and talk to you. As long as you don't get me sick too, I'll come. Jeez, do you ever stop begging?"
The answer was no. I didn't ever stop begging. I wanted, needed to talk to him, to tell him what I was feeling.
The doorbell rang several minutes after the call I answered it on ring number three, because I learned from those myths that Love was hit three times in the heart by Destiny's shots. I knew that three was the magic number of Love.
"Mark!" I cried out, hugging my boyfriend in the doorway. "You came!"
I knew that having a spouse or significant other meant nothing but status in today's society, but to me, it was meaning more every second. I released him as he tried to walk in the door, and he followed me to the living room we had spent so many nights watching movies in.
"Of course I came. You asked me to, didn't you?" He looked at me with concern for the first time all week. He must have thought I was crazy.
"Okay, yeah. Well," I started. "I have something I have to tell you." Mark nodded, signaling for me to go on. I took a deep breath and I mustered up all of my courage.
"Mark, I think I'm in love with you." It must have taken a lot of strength to say that, because I suddenly felt very weak. Or was one supposed to feel this way after admitting love?
I waited for Mark's response. At first there was none, but then his face morphed into a look of horror.
"Cady? What in hell are you talking about? Love has been extinct for centuries! Nobody has loved since the beginning of the Twentieth Century! You're insane!" He was standing up now, backing away. "I'm sorry," he started saying. I barely heard the words. "I can't date you, even for status, if you're a sinner." He turned and fled out the still-open door.
A cold breeze blew in. Was this how Love felt when she died on the battlefield? I certainly felt dead. I had nothing left, no strength, no hope, no nothing. All of it was gone with Mark out the door. He took away my hopes, dreams, and life.
This was how Love felt after Life walked away.
It's been three months since Mark left through this doorway. At first I thought I wouldn't be able to move on, to feel anything ever again. But the time passed and the world went on without me for a time. Nobody seemed to notice my absence.
But now, here I stand in the very doorway that killed me, ready to rejoin the world. At least I learned one thing from my dealings with Love, and with Mark. At least I learned that I could go on.
Because after all, Life goes on.