I almost lost the one I love.
Looking back on it I marvel at how utterly trivial it was. With subtle elegance selfishness eased it’s way into my bosom. So enterprising was it that I failed to think twice of my behavior.
My dearest Gregory and I were in the middle stage of our courtship. We’ve past the introductory stage, past the part where we’ve discovered one another’s irksome habits--not all but some. We were at that stage where we’ve grown fondly comfortable with one another and progressing towards engagement. It was at this point in our relationship that Gregory’s business began to flourish significantly. The referrals and word-of-mouth advertisement made by his happy customers (which was but a handful) paid off. New demands kept Gregory working longer hours at the office. Our usual weekend dates now became every other weekend get-togethers.
It was easy to be understanding in the beginning. However, when Gregory began to schedule appointments with clientele during non-business hours (a.k.a the weekend) it didn’t take long for me to feel snubbed. Scraps, I told him. That’s all I received now were scraps of his time. Morsels he could afford to dispose of without it affecting his business. Gregory, though, assured me that was not the case. He was torn between growing the business, looking after his widowed mother, selling the house he currently had so that we might purchase one closer to the side of town we wanted to live and spending time with me.
I, on the other hand, with a recent teaching degree taught second graders at the local elementary school. There was not much else to occupy my time other than the students and my mother’s ladies society. I missed Gregory terribly. Even though we lived but a few short distance from each other, it might as well have been the Atlantic Ocean, for I rarely saw him.
My feelings and love for him were martyred (so I was convinced to believe). Now that Gregory was more occupied with important things, seeing me was no longer a priority. This led to tearful nights, swollen eyelids and red noses. Where once I would pounce upon the ringing telephone in my father’s study, I grew to ignore it. When Gregory would call I refused to answer (which placed my parents in a predicament). A taste of his own medicine was what I figured I’d teach him. But those days for me were not filled with gleeful delight at the thought of him suffering. No, rather they were painful...more so than I care to admit. No matter how justified I convinced myself I would, at the same time, hope for the phone to ring that I might ignore it. Then came the day when the phone did not ring at all. Neither did it ring the second day.
Oh, the folly of the thoughtless head and stupid heart! After much a-grievance over those two silent days, I finally called his office. No answer. I called his mother’s home. He was not there. There was no comfort, for I called him intermittently all day. No Gregory. It was as if epiphany seized me and I was paralyzed by my selfish behavior. What if Gregory had washed his hands of me? What if he contemplated and came to the conclusion that life without me was breezier. I couldn’t stomach the thought. I didn’t want to lose Gregory. Of all the times to learn that lesson, I learned it right in the ugly middle of that mess. I loved him dearly. My fault was that I had grown too comfortable to expect him whenever it pleased me. Now that I wasn’t pleased because business was doing so well for him, I had actually believed I had the right to be offended. How wrong I was.
I never would have dreamed of behaving such during the early days of our relationship. However as time progressed, as our love blossomed for each other, as the everyday ordinaries piled one on top of the other the newness faded. There was no excuse for the way I behaved. Why couldn’t I consider all the things he had to juggle? I could have been more understanding; I could have pitched in and helped in some manner. Instead I looked only at how the change was affecting me. How I plead with God that my stupidity did not lead me down the path of no return. Albeit, if it did then I would not blame Gregory one bit. Not even an ounce.
I prayed I have irrevocably learned my lesson. That was something I wished never to repeat again. When you have found the one you love, don’t ever let go...no matter how forceful things pull and tug at you to break free, don’t.
Gregory was not angry, although he sounded wearied when we finally spoke with each other. “I’m sorry, love,” I told him. What blissful relief when he pulled me into his arms and whispered in my hair, “I love you, Veronica.”
Veronica Thesbit
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