11:19 a.m. - 2005-10-02
Dark Choice
The love of a humble man is a frightening thing. The love of a true man is a dangerous thing. . The love of one undaunted by the dark is unnerving. The radiant face of an angel unawares courts certain martyrdom Unpardonable souls shrink from such attention. I couldn�t detach from John and yet my eyes never quite adjusted to the light of his shameless adoration. And so he worked like Jacob, tirelessly, joyfully, for the tyrant that was me. Awaiting his reward, his rightful bride. Preparing the many mansions that I, in my guilt, could not inhabit. He planted gardens and stepped on spiders, solved my grieving mother�s crossword puzzles, drove her for her weekly bouffant, He worked with a heartfelt charity that pushed me further into the recesses of self-loathing. The more he did, the more I despised myself and, by proxy, him. His unassuming grin, the way his eyes lit as I entered the room, his servant�s posture served only to alienate me. I was cruel and I am not cruel. And so I hated the person I was becoming and the catalyst I couldn�t refuse for loneliness and grief. John. In my heart, I mocked his every gesture and so my heart grew black. His intelligence was seen as a threat. His simplicity shamed my pompous theology. I recoiled from his gentle touch. Yet I spent my hours accepting his gifts, assuaging self inflicted wounds with the lavish balm of his friendship. The alabaster jar of time he squandered on my ungrateful soul. And so, when the phone rang one evening and I heard Anthony�s voice, I was relieved in the way a victim bound and gagged might sigh at the voice of her captor. The ease of knowing just what to expect. The wolf in wolf�s clothing, arrogant and mean. That blessed freedom from choice. I was the perennial cowering puppet, too timid to covet the rigors of skin. Having gambled all of my childhood pennies on cautious Gepetto, whose shattered heart repelled my useless consolations, whose love I despaired of ever winning back, I finally abandoned hope. Distrustful of kindness, of conventional wisdom, of self respect, I preferred the villain�s solace. Predictable black moustache. Evil, settled once and for all. No risk of further disappointment, no little girl�s heart on the line. A simple business transaction, sterile and complete. Grace for fear. Skillful as a killer, Anthony summoned my return. And so I went, leaving John to sweep up the pieces of his own extinguished hope. Quietly he prayed for my safety while the flames lapped about him. And the heavens seemed to open to receive him as I made my dark way home.
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