All I’ve ever wanted was to be loved by Vera. I don’t know when exactly I realized this or when I fell for her, but I did. Not literally with the falling part—well, maybe a few times. Then again, I fall a lot. I’m sort of a klutz that way and other ways. I do a fairly decent job of not tripping over my own feet too much, if I do say so myself. Unfortunately, though, tables are a different story. I don’t think there’s been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t knocked something off of something somewhere sometime in the day. I’ve gotten better, though, if I think about it. If I don’t think about it, well, as I said, I’m sort of a klutz. I come by it honestly, though—my dad has the same problem. “Like father like son,” he says, usually giving a laugh and usually not meaning a word of it. He doesn’t walk into walls like I do, and I can’t help but think I get my elegance from my mom. She does walk into walls, and she’s a waitress—or at least she was. After that last tray of orders landed on a customer she was given the boot and she turned in her apron for some sort of secretarial work. When I called last week, she said she was getting on fine and was so glad for the switch. She has a bright attitude towards pretty much everything including this new job; I just worry about her with the stapler.
Going back to Vera, however. As I said, I don’t know if I can say when I fell for her, but I remember when I first met her: August twentieth, far too many years ago. It was a sunny day, or at least bright in parts. I remember the feel of the sunbeams on my skin as I walked up to the school with my backpack weighing heavily on my shoulders. I remember her laugh as she spoke to some other girl about summer camp. She held the door for me—smiling as she told me good morning. I remember I smiled back like a fool and told myself not to trip in front of her. I think that’s when I fell. I don’t know how red my face turned as I landed across the school threshold, but I didn’t really care; Vera helped me up. “Are you alright?” she asked. She sounded so urgent as though I had never fallen down before. “Just a klutz,” I said, reaching around to try to gather my things. “Aren’t we all some days?” she asked sweetly, handing me my glasses. Those words still ring in my head as music. We really became the best of friends. I know it sounds cheesy to say, but we were. I didn’t have many friends because I didn’t really know how to act around other kids and they didn’t know how to act around me. Vera didn’t care, though, she was just the epitome of kind. Have you ever met someone who’s the embodiment of an adjective and all you can do is swoon because it’s a good one? That was me with Vera. She was perfect. Most people said she was pretty, too, but I never saw it. Not that it mattered, I was in love with her, anyways, and in the fact that she loved me back. We got married, eventually, in the local church with just a small ceremony—that was right before we moved to New York. She said the city was the prettiest place she’d ever seen. I thought it was noisy, but I loved the way she was always smiling. She tended to smile a lot back home, but every day here only made her happier. And, why wouldn’t she be happy? Her career was picking up and I had a sound job in an office. I made phone calls all day for the company sorting this and that out for them. Everything was great, except for the stapler—that’s why I was worried about my mom. Mind you, though, not everything was all sunshine and rainbows for us. Life’s just not that way. I know that, but things were good overall. We were happy, mostly, except that one day. Vera just had a bad day and came back to our loft long after dinnertime. She wasn’t smiling. “What’s wrong?” I asked. I had waited up for her. “Everything,” she said, trying to smile, but I knew it wasn’t a real one—she was short and her voice nearly cracked. She explained that big things and little things were just piling up and she wasn’t sure what she was doing and she didn’t think her career was going anywhere and she wanted to go home and…well, just everything. She was all in a tizzy as she thrust a pile of paper in my hands and told me to look at them, just look at them, and see why everything was so awful and why she should just give up and call it quits because she was worthless and I was useless and there was no point to any of this. She dropped into a stunned silence as I held the papers. She’d forgotten. She burst into tears. “I fell today,” she said into my shoulder after she stopped sobbing so much. “Good,” I said. “I’m rubbing off on you.” She smiled, then laughed, then cried a bit more. She was so perfect. I wish I had told her more before all this. From there, things went downhill, and uphill, and, well… they just haven’t been the same. Anyway, here we are. We’ve stayed in the city, obviously. Besides, where else would we have gone? Vera loves it here and I love her happy even if it’s slowly the city that’s making her happier than I am. I used to be okay with that. I used to think that her happiness was all that mattered for my happiness…and now? Well, you tell me; I’m a blind customer relations rep married to a couture model I’ve never seen, telling my life’s story to either a wall or a very patient listener. Judging by the silence I’m guessing it’s the former meaning that the fellow who asked me how I knew Vera is long gone and I’ve turned into some weirdo talking to himself at an after party waiting for his soon-to-be ex-wife to finish mingling. That’s fine, though. I’m used to it. Besides, it’s not the reason I’m losing Vera. I lost her long before I started confiding in walls. I lost her the moment I tripped over the school threshold: it’s just been a slow process realizing it. Comments are closed.
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