“I am going back to my first love,” he wrote.
He placed his confessional note on the coffee table, next to her phone.
He shut the door quietly and left.
An hour later, she woke up and picked up the brief note.
Those terrible words pierced through her heart, creating a stream through her eyes.
Warm tears rolled down her soft cheeks, trickling down her cherub lips.
She licked her lips.
Her soft lips, especially the middle, tasted salty, just like those words that he wrote.
He made promises to her.
She thought she was his first love.
She knows there had been a few before her,
But she was sure she was the only one now.
She was sure she was the one in his heart.
During the day, she couldn’t eat.
The note with those stormy words suppressed her hunger, making her feeling only bluer.
AT NIGHT
At night, she would turn and toss, toss and turn like she were on a bed of fiery tides, and couldn’t get a good night sleep.
The words I am going back to my first love sputtered in her head like like those stringy potatoes that he used to fry on the weekends.
Oh, those hot potatoes sprinkled with sea salts,
She missed them too.
She couldn’t go another week like this.
It’s been two weeks since he has been gone,
And she must know.
She must know who stole his heart,
Because she was sure she was the only one in his heart,
At least, she was pretty sure up until his recent raw admission.
She must know who stole his heart,
Because she was sure, she was the one in his heart.
One day after work, she went home,
The quickest way she can.
She is what they call a road warrior, who knows all the back roads, even better than Google.
She collected all his stuff from her place.
Three T-shirts, two belts, and his hat,
And tossed them in a wardrobe box.
She didn’t know if his first love was going to be there when she arrived.
Her heart was in no shape to see anyone else, but she texted,
Saying she is coming by to drop a few things.
After she released a long exhale, she got in her fast car and raced to Splashy Lover’s Street to go see him.
Passing a few curvy roads, she approached an abundant body of blue water. On it, a kayak in the distance, coming towards the shore, sailed slower than a snail, while another leaving picked up speed.
She turned the corner and pulled up to his house, a house very close to the sea.
By the side of his home, she saw his truck parked in the garage.
ON HIS TRUCK
On his truck was something she has never seen before.
There was an old boat tied in chains.
The boat wasn’t pretty.
The chains and knots were craftily tied and secured,
Preserving the vessel with uttermost care.
She got out of the car with his stuff, and tip-toed closer to the boat.
Her nose could smell the sea on the boat.
From the bottom end of the vessel, water dripped like soft rain onto the ground.
Her eyes shifted to the hull,
The part that stood out with letters,
Letters that formed words,
Words that she has seen before,
The brief words he wrote right before he left.
Standing there, she didn’t know how to understand.
As she was rereading the words, he came running from his front porch.
“My first love,” he called out.
He moved his eyes to the boat and then to her.
“Her, that ugly thing is YOUR FIRST LOVE,” she screamed, throwing the packed box.
The packed box bouncing off the side of the boat and spilling into the ground.
“Darling, it’s not that…I don’t care about you,” he attempts to soothe her.
“But you care for that unattractive thing more?”
“Unattractive. What did she ever do to you?” he asks.
“That thing that you call SHE! SHE STOLE MY LOVER FROM ME!” she shouted in more pain.
NO, SHE STOLE YOUR HEART AND KEPT WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN RESERVED FOR ME! She amended her words.
“It’s not her fault…I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“You have already told me enough, but now tell me why?” she hollered.
ROAD GIRL
“Road girl, I must be around the water.”
She glared at him as he spoke.
“I am a waterfowl.”
“Yea, you are a foul all right,” she replied.
“You, you live on land, but I sleep on the water,” he said.
“WITH YOUR FIRST LOVE!” she screams.
“Your first love took this girl’s first good love–that dull thing of a hull,” she adds.
“Oh, but she is anything but dull when she rides on those
“Clearly, I have been mistaken about you.”
“Darling, please hear this. I am anything but a roadman.
I am a seaman. And If I can’t have saltwater, I will take freshwater. And if I can’t have freshwater, I will take nothing.”
GIVE ME
“Give me a canoe, and I will become a river man. Pass me a kayak, and I can get by being a lake man. Throw me any water raft, and I will paddle it, eventually with the hopes of making to the sea. What you love me for is not what I am. I am not a roadman. I will do best with a lake woman, river woman, or even a merwoman,” he spoke with the gentlest of care.
His salty words stung her more.
“I been worried sick and you are loving water ghouls?” she asked.
“Sometimes, you don’t know what love is until you miss what you thought was important
“My first love and only love is nowhere but here.” he adamantly confirmed.
“She takes me to the blue sea, and I like sitting on my boat and feeling the splashy blue under my feet,” he said.
A few seconds later, he got in the truck and drove off with his first love.
“If this is your first love and only love who am I then?” she said, breaking into tears.
“If this is your first love and only love who am I then?” she repeated. Her long beautiful hair blew with a breeze.
“Dry land love,” she heard his neighbor yell from a few feet away.
“Dear woman, is there such thing?” the jilted lover asked the neighbor.
“Love is love, and it truly is a word I haven’t quite loved, speaking for myself,” the neig
The jilted lover glanced at the neighbor as she spoke.
“Some people think the seawater has potent properties that not even another human can compete with.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, some people do, and that includes me as well. Don’t take it so personally,” the neighbor said and walked away carefree to the blue beach shore.
ABOUT THIS SHORT PROSE
The short prose, I am going back to my first love, is inspired by the novellas and novels that I am currently writing.
While writing and rewriting, I thought I would go and take some shots of the sea, the lake, the ocean, the boats, the marina, the piers, and nautical knots.
Sea boat rope
I will add more boats and nautical knots photos on another post dedicated to Scider the Wizard Cat.
