The Only Thing I've Got

We drove. Drove through rain drenched streets in milky dawn light. For the umpteenth time that morning I looked at her and felt only love. For the umpteenth time that morning I looked at her and saw a soul so devastated that words failed me. I knew that this journey to nowhere was her therapy. I wasn’t even sure she knew I was in the car with her. This did not matter to me. All that mattered to me was the woman I loved with every fibre of my being. All that mattered to me in this whole world was Amy.

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1. Driving

We drove. Drove through rain drenched streets in milky dawn light. For the umpteenth time that morning I looked at her and felt only love. For the umpteenth time that morning I looked at her and saw a soul so devastated that words failed me. I knew that this journey to nowhere was her therapy. I wasn’t even sure she knew I was in the car with her. This did not matter to me. All that mattered to me was the woman I loved with every fibre of my being. All that mattered to me in this whole world was Amy.

I used to play in a band. We weren’t bad. We used to play in all the local flea pits and grimy pubs. That was how we first met. Amy was our only groupie. I remember vividly the moment I first saw her. She was captivating, a vision. All the usual things you hear other people say about the ones they really fall in love with and you think it’s sentimental, romantic nonsense. From that instant I knew she was the one. That was the moment I first really believed in fate.

She was shy at first. She would tuck her hair behind her ear absently as I spoke to her and her eyes would look into mine and then dart away, the intimacy of the moment proving too much to prolong further. She spoke softly as if she feared offending someone if she spoke any louder. But even through her shy nervousness I felt something. I felt an unspoken connection and before long she’d stopped toying with her hair, stopped averting her gaze. Her eyes never left mine.

Amy stared intently at the road ahead. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and crying. The pale skin of her cheeks was streaked with the tracks of mascara tainted tears. I felt ill with heartache at the sight of her. The dirty grey light of dawn had given way to the harsh glint of a cold autumn sun. I flipped the sun visor down to block the glare. Amy continued to stare ahead, oblivious of the sunlight as she drove on. A part of me screamed out that I should say something to her. The part of me that felt no guilt. The part of me that conveniently ignored what I had done wrong. I looked at her once more. Again I felt my love for her. Again I felt the devastation as I gazed upon this beautiful woman, a woman that had given me so much, who would have given me anything but one thing and one thing alone. Fate isn’t all fortune and romance and happy ever after. Sometimes the selfishness of people gets in the way.

I won’t pretend that as our relationship developed there were not times when we had our rocky patches. Life will always find a way to obscure the good things, the important things, in meaningless triviality so that you find yourself using an argument about curtain fabric as an opportunity to throw pretty much everything that bugs you in your partners face. I do anyway. If I’m honest I know I’m a bit of a bastard sometimes. Usually at the times when unwise words escape from my mouth because my temper gets a hold of me and I forget how easy it is to hurt someone with an unkind word. Even someone I love as much as Amy. Some things, however, hurt much more than words.

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