Tough Love

Tough Love
By Eric Fogle

Thoughts cascaded through Ron’s mind as he perched against the wall. He hid away from Jani to conceal his frantic breathing. It was a power move, standing half hidden by the corner post; letting his ice blue eyes flare in contrast against the white-chipped paint. It stopped the belief that he was nervous. Yet, he was nervous. He had come to her house to fight. He was a man of dominance and composure who used fighting to feel important. There was no cost too high to indulge his chaotic emotional state in these moments, which is why he had asked Jani to come to his one room apartment to discuss their relationship. Each time he prepared himself with a carefully designed script in mind that resembled the colorful assortment of clothes strewn across the floor: chaos. His entire “self” was chaos. He enjoyed it. It had always embodied how he argued and how he loved.

Once a week Ron brought her into his house to talk about himself in not so many words. He was a person of no real consequence and so he used intimate moments in which he could take control and drive his companion to tears. He told himself that these moments were tests of love. There was no doubt he loved Jani. However, faith in his own love meant nothing when confronted by fallacy. The simple fact of life was that he never really believed anyone could love him back.

Women are fickle creatures of habit, he thought, pushing away her gentle touch; glaring at her through fake anger.

“Why are you saying these things, honey,” Jani choked out the question as tears slid down her face.

“Because I am honest,” he replied in grim tones that belied the satisfied mood he always got from giving her this answer. “And because you are a fake. You talk of such things as love, yet you could never stand behind your words.”

“I do not…” she sputtered, lifting her left ring finger; banded in the shiny surface of whitened gold that he had given her for Easter. It was a sign that they would be together forever. She always touched it when they fought.

“Blah, blah, blah,” he retorted with mock indignation. “I do not care if you understand. The fact remains you preach to me how much you love me. What love can exist when you will not compromise yourself to my needs?”

There was no response. Instead, she lowered her eyes to the ground; her body trembled at what was coming next.

“Honey,” Ron started softly bringing her back into the conversation. “Was it not me that stood by your side through all the bad things? I was here when you were fighting with you family. I was here through your feeble attempts to earn my trust. I am still here as you lie to my face each night.”

“I am sorry… I didn’t… mean to hurt… you,” the words were choppy as salt caked her face, making her eyes puffy and red-rimmed.

“So you finally admit that you lied this entire time?” he threw the small pen he had been holding to the ground in disgust. After all this time she had finally admitted what he had known for so long. She was a liar. There was no way in hell she could ever love him.

“You are taking my words…” she was cut off by the look in his eyes.

“You god damned fake,” anger burned in his voice. “How about this! I don’t give a shit about your words anymore. I am done with this. I am done with you.”

The words “I am done” lingered in his mind as Ron’s anger burned away any thoughts of logic. For three long years he had manipulated these situations, trying to find a weakness in her faith. He had punished her for no reason in those attempts; making up fictional events that he could hold her accountable for. Those attempts had all proven fruitless until this moment.

To admit she is sorry is to admit she has done something wrong, Ron’s thoughts screamed in his mind, tearing at his composure.

The sounds of her sobbing brought him back to the moment. When he looked down upon her, Ron was disgusted to see his once strong lady kneeling on the ground, trembling. There was no excuse for trying to hurt him. There was no excuse for faking love.

A subconscious thought of the wrongness tugged at his feelings. It nearly made him drop his masculine façade and beg forgiveness. It nearly snubbed the blue fire burning in his soul. He had felt this often; turmoil at his actions. These feelings had led him to be betrayed; had led him to being weak when he needed to be strong.

No dammit! He screamed inside his head. I am doing what needs to be done. I cannot let this betrayer throw around my feelings so wantonly.
The thought that he was the betrayer bloomed in his mind, dying out with a flex of his iron will. There was no price too high to mete out justice!

The crying had stopped.

Ron had not expected his fiancé’s moans of agony to cease so soon. When he looked down again he noticed that her cheeks were streaked with cheap mascara and tear salt, yet her eyes gazed hopefully; she had the audacity to be studying him. He was angry that she could see the turmoil racking his soul. He needed to crush her hope; otherwise he would lose power and cave under the guilt.

“I told you to leave,” he snapped.

“I cannot leave,” she responded calmly; a single tear rolling down her perfect face. “I cannot imagine my life without you.”

“And I cannot imagine my life with you,” Ron responded quietly, coldly, trying to drive a stake into her heart.

Ron could tell she was trying to be strong. He could see the life ebb from her emerald eyes. As quickly as the glow of life and happiness burst into being, it faded back into the nothingness that always epilogues a relationship. He could see her heart dying with every word.

There was silence. There was nothing but damnable silence!

Ron could see her heave several times but no noise strangled through her lips. It amazed him as she stood with as much dignity as was capable of and removed his ring. He could see her eyes linger on the memorable piece of history that they shared.

He barely heard the whisper as she walked away. “I loved you once. May you find the happiness that I could never offer.”

As Jani walked out of the house a feeling of dread finally poured over Ron; ending with the realization of what he had done. He could not help trying to delineate what kind of person he really was. For the first time he noticed the nervous feeling he had suppressed with anger, it never left his gut.

There is no life without Jani, the thought destroyed his mask of composure and integrity. Tears flooded down his face with understanding, the randomness of chaos receded; he had lost what he most treasured.

With a trembling hand he took the small momento and rubbed it; remembrance of that which he loved. The last thought he had, before he was running out the door, was guilt. He had given her a test and she had passed.

Now, it was time to win her back…