Author note

I wrote this short story back when I worked as an Office Manager in late 2003. The story is based partially on real events, but the majority of it is fiction and is an experiment in a new writing style.

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Love with Laughter
By Johnny Crow © 2003

My name is Darren Anderson. This story is but a small part in the opus of my life. Grand as it all was, this story has more depth, happiness, sadness, intrigue, irony, and heartbreak than one would expect in an opera. Perhaps first I shall tell you details about my life that are essential to the story. The only place that seems a fitting start is the beginning itself.

I grew up a small boy, a part of two separate families. Not wholly belonging to either, it seems this would be the mark that I would carry with me throughout my life. I can say this made me have tough skin. However, in reality, all I really ever wanted was to be loved. Anyway, I grew up in many different places, which helped to facilitate this feeling of not really belonging anywhere. I had a few friends that I stuck by throughout the years, with phone calls, letters, and the occasional long-distance visit. I had few girlfriends and fewer opportunities.

My life seemed to stabilize when I entered high school. I worked hard and tried to finalize my plans for the future, only to be moved away again from the only friends I had and the only life I really knew. I sank into myself, closing off the world, and soon found myself as low as I could be. Staring up at the world from the bottom of the proverbial well, it seemed as though life were just a dream, a figment just out of arm’s reach. Somewhere, though, deep inside I felt this burning need to find my place, because even this hollow cave I was in was not where I belonged. It was not the comfort I needed. I worked hard and I worked slowly. I set small goals and started to accomplish them one by one. Again, my life seemed to have a stabilizing effect. Things were good, not great, but good. I did not have everything I wanted, but I did have something, and that is better than having nothing.

Then she walked into my life. Actually, it was more like I bumped into hers. I had first seen her in passing, and turned to look, and could not breathe. It seemed as though my whole world had come to a crawl, and I could hear only the shallow rasp of my breath trying to escape. She never really noticed me, and as usual, I just stood there with a dumb expression, doing nothing. My friend finally dragged me away, back to normality. I had told my friend what I had experienced; he told me I just needed a good lay. This felt different somehow. It felt like no matter what happened I was supposed to know this girl, this magnificent creature whose beauty could move a mountain without a single word.

I finally got the courage to talk to her. The more we talked, the more I seemed to know that there was something more to us than just passing acquaintances. I had to know what that was. We exchanged numbers, and we talked here and there, nothing big. Through some tribulation, I had to come to grips with what I felt for her. I had to tell her, whatever the outcome. I could not lie to this girl. I mustered the courage and told her, and it was like a great weight was lifted, yet with nothing really to show for it. It was great. Perhaps monumental for me, but overall it was just a needed revelation. I can’t say that it made our friendship better or worse. It seemed as though we talked less, but it also seemed we understood each other more. We both were getting on with our lives.

I threw myself into work and tried to lose myself again. You would think I had learned my lesson the first time. I caught myself this time, realizing that things happen for a reason, and that it is more about how we deal with things that makes us who we are than the things we do. I bettered myself, again working slow and hard, staying friends, and working through the problems of daily life. Here I was, months later, again feeling the stabilizing effect of hard work. Still talking to her, seeing each other here and there, messages sent to and from, even if only to say hi. Life was okay.

Perhaps it is my own fault for the stability in my life to be put asunder. It would seem likely that, subconsciously, through my very nature, I was better at dealing with stress and pressure until I had finally found what I was looking for, never really settling for just anything. It had been a few days since I had last received a message from her. Nothing out of the ordinary, as it were. The day was quiet, serene skies floated above, and the last hint of spring still lingered in the air. I received a message in the early afternoon. Surprisingly, it did not say whom it was from, but it was addressed to me, and it said:

“I still love you, and I always will.”

I was taken aback, shocked at the suddenness of it all. Not really expecting this from her, I sought counsel from close friends who gave me sound advice. They said that you get nothing in life without asking for it. I decided to take the chance, not wanting to ruin a friendship, but also not wanting to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime. I replied to her message, choosing my words very carefully. Never having done this before, I said:

“Marry me someday, then.”

Maybe not the way I had wanted, but it achieved the goal nonetheless. I waited, thinking of all the possible outcomes. Waiting longer still. Then, finally, a message arrived.

“Are you proposing to me?”

Of course, my jaw nearly fell to the floor. I had waited so long only for a clarification. Now it seemed there was no mistake in this question, and she had to answer, good or bad. I sent off my reply, nothing short of eager.

“Absolutely.”

Again, I waited in agony for an answer, any answer. Quicker this time, I received a reply.

“Why would you want to?”

I had not anticipated a question like this. But perhaps she did not fully understand how I felt about her. So with everything I had, I put it all out there and said:

“It was hard for me to admit my love for you. My heart aches when I am reminded of you. I get lost in your soul when I look at you.”

I waited, not so much in agony, but more in hope now, that with all that I dared to reveal, there would be something tangible I could take away from this. And soon I received another message, and it read:

“I do not ever think I would be on this side of your affection. I knew how you felt, but I had never realized that my hopes of being by your side would come true. I have heard you say these things to others, but never to me.”

Now I was intrigued. I read the response several times to make sure I understood what she meant. It seemed good at first, a revelation that she wanted to have my affection. Yet something didn’t sit right. Something in what she said was bothering me. She said, “I have heard you say these things to others, but never to me.” I had never said these things to another living soul. My worst fears were coming to fruition, and I couldn’t contain my despair. I wrote back in desperation, hoping that it was not true.

“Who is this?”

I waited, hoping she would just laugh at me for being silly, while silently knowing in my heart of hearts that I was about to know firsthand the pain of irony and heartbreak. A reply came; I opened it slowly, eyes closed, not wanting to read it.

“It is Veronica. This is Richard, right?”

My heart sank, and I sobbed aloud. No one around me knew why, but they knew that it was real. I had to gain composure. I needed to rectify the situation and hopefully save face. I sent a message that I knew would have a similar, if not easier, effect on this poor girl.

“No, Veronica… this is Darren. I was under the impression that I was conversing with Kaitlyn. It is all my fault. I do hope you can forgive me for my blind error.”

And so, I slowly slipped into a cocoon, wishing that I had never been born, thinking of all the words I said to Kaitlyn that she would never hear, for my heart could not take the pain of suffering another loss so soon. Later that day, I received another message from Veronica.

“Darren, I too am sorry. I am sorry that we both had to go through this experience. Now knowing that neither one of those intended to hear this will ever know the truth, I am grateful. I know you are Richard’s friend, and being such, I hope that not a word of this is passed between you two. I hope your search for love ends well.”

I believe that it is these trials and tribulations that we go through in life that make us the men and women that we are to become. I came away from this knowing more about myself and what I am willing to give to other people. This gave me the strength to move on in life and pursue what I wanted more vigorously.

The question I bet you’re asking is, “Did you ever tell her? Did you ever marry her?” The answer you seek does not lie in this story; the answer you seek is in you. Perhaps the rest of this story is better told another time, a lesson for another day. I pray you take guidance in these words, and know that love is out there and that we should never stop pursuing it. I leave you with these words from e.e. Cummings:

“The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.”