*************************************************************************** This author's e-mail address has changed to: myriss1013@yahoo.com *************************************************************************** From: "M. L." Date: Wed, 18 Apr 2001 22:51:50 +0800 Subject: The Park Bench by Myriss Source: direct TITLE: The Park Bench AUTHOR: Myriss EMAIL ADDRESS: myriss@bigfoot.com DISTRIBUTION: Ephemeral Okay. I will forward to Gossamer myself. Okay for others but please let me know. And keep my name and header attached. RATINGS WARNING: G CLASSIFICATION: VR KEYWORDS: MSR. (Welcome to the land of the thousand ships!) SPOILERS: Nothing really. SUMMARY: A man sits on a bark bench, watching and thinking. THE DISCLAIMER: Any character you recognized from the t.v. series belongs to 1013 and Fox. I am just borrowing them. AUTHOR'S NOTES* - At the end. The Park Bench by Myriss (myriss@bigfoot.com) Sometimes love goes no matter how hard you tried to hang onto it. In the end, you end up hanging on too tight and suffocating it. It took him a long time to realize what he had done---even with the arguing, the raised voices, the slamming of doors. It took him even longer to finally admit it. In the end, it was too late to salvage the relationship. She had packed up her things and left, leaving nothing but the ghost of her presence behind. So here he was now, creeping along on the wrong side of forty and very much alone. She had been at his side for so many years that her absence terrified him. He wasn't quite sure if he could go on living without her. The last time a woman had broken his heart, he had buried himself into his work, but this respite was not available to him. His work had been her work, too. The void that she once occupied haunted him there. So he fled the office. He fled the empty apartment full of memories. He wandered to the nearby park and sat on the park bench, watching and thinking, wondering what went wrong. When a couple passed by him walking hand-in-hand, a stab of pain went through his heart. Once upon a time, he had been one of them---loved and in love. Not now.... What was love? He thought he had shared it with her but he supposed he could have been badly mistaken. Love could not possibly hurt this much. Hell, he wasn't sure he believed in love anymore. Hanging out of the park was a way to soothe the pain. Time spent there was time spent away from brooding at home, but it took him a while to get over his dark apathy to finally noticed them. The elderly couple. He wasn't quite sure why they fascinated him so much. They looked like any other old couple walking the park. The husband was tall and stooped. The wife small and wizened. They came swathed in layers of coats, hats, and gloves to keep off the autumn chill. When they walked, their arms were linked closely together. The husband leaned protectively over his wife. They walked the slow shuffle that the very old seem to have. They would stop to rest at a nearby park bench. There, the wife would pulled out a paper bag filled with sandwiches and drinks. They would eat and talk, their faces close together. Every once in a while, he could hear them laugh. Afterwards, the husband would tenderly wipe his wife clean with a napkin. Then she would gather up the remains of their meal, stowing away their trash in the paper bag. The old man would stand up and stretch---then reach down and help his wife to her feet. And they would be on their way again. They came so regularly, they became a marker in his day. A curious respite from his brooding. So when they didn't appear at all for a few weeks, he began to wonder if something had happened to them. They were very old after all. But he did not have to worry long. They appeared the very next day...coming slowly up the path like they usually do. But this day was different. It was warmer than it had been and the park was crowded with visitors taking advantage of the sunny day. Their usual bench was full so they slowly plodded to where he sat and stopped. "May we?" the old man asked, gesturing to the bench. Surprised, he managed to say, "Oh, sure." And scooted over to give them enough room to sit down. The old man carefully helped his wife to sit down on the bench, before he followed, his joints cracking audibly. The old man sighed. "I am getting too old---" "Oh please," his wife said good-naturedly. She smiled at her husband then turned to him and said, "We've seen you here often." He smiled shakily back at her. "Well---yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward. The old woman smiled. He could see that under the cobweb of fine lines that she once had been a very beautiful woman. "We've been out of town," she announced. "We went to see our great-grand baby." She pulled out pictures. "Do you want to see?" He didn't really, but he didn't want to appear rude. "Sure," he said. The old woman's smile dazzled him. He was suddenly happy with his decision. There also came the blinding insight that this old woman had probably broken more than a few hearts in her time. "This is Tristian," she said. "Ten pounds and eight ounces. A big baby---like his Grandfather--our son." She sighed and shook her head. "My, it took him a while to settle down. Our son. Too busy traveling all over the world, you know---Nepal, India, China, the Middle East, Europe. Then he joined the Peace Corps and went to Africa. That's where he meet Mai. Mai's his wife. She was also a member of the Peace Corps and a teacher. She's part Taiwanese. Tristian is the son of our granddaughter Lily. " "I can see the Asian heritage in the baby's eyes," he told her. "Oh yes." She smiled lovingly at the picture. "He has beautiful eyes." She pulled out a bag of sandwiches. "Would you like a sandwich?" "Oh, no thank you, ma'am." "Are you sure? There's plenty." "I'm fine. Thanks," he assured her. The old couple began to eat. After a while, the wife said to him, "So are you married?" "Me?" he stammered. He shook his head. "Oh no. Uhm---came close, though--" he broke off. The ache inside came rolling back like a tidal wave. He felt he was about to drown in his despair. Oh God!---he missed her! "I guess she decided she would be better off without me. Not that I blame her," he added brokenly. The old woman reached over and patted his hand. "We've been together for over fifty years," she said. She and her husband exchanged tender looks. "And I can tell you we had our share of ups and downs, dear. If it was meant to be, it will come out all right in the end." He watched them begin their usual routine to leave. The wife gathering up their trash and putting it into the paper bag. Her husband's bones creaking as he helped his wife stand up. The old woman turned to him and smiled. "Thank you for letting us sit with you. We will see you tomorrow." Then she tugged gently on her husband's arm. "C'mon, Mulder, let's go home." He watched as they began to walk down the park path. Abruptly, they stopped. Like two halves of a whole---yin and yang---they stood there. Their heads bent close together as they talked quietly. Suddenly the old man gently cupped his wife's face in one hand. The other he used to brush back a stray lock of white hair. Then he reached down and kissed his wife gently on the lips. He saw the old man mouthed, "Love you" to his wife. Another kiss---this time on the forehead---and then they were once again on their way, hand in hand. As they had disappeared into the horizon, something deep inside of him squeezed tight, then expanded, bursting out. On this warm autumn day---in the crowded park---a man began to weep. So this was love.... He believed. Finis *AUTHOR'S NOTE - Sorry! I couldn't put 3rd POV up at the top. It would have spoiled the surprise! But I hoped that I put enough in there for you to get just a itty bitty little suspicious about who the old couple really were. For those who were totally surprised, I hope it was a pleasant surprise. I hoped I managed to pull it off. This story would fit very nicely into the Thin Slices universe---very far, far into the future. Thanks for reading! And thanks to those who have been so very encouraging! Constructive feedbeed is always welcome! ---Myriss (04.18.01) (myriss@bigfoot.com)