A Conversation

“It’s like a break in the clouds on a gloomy day,” Peg said. “It warms you, makes you smile, and life is worth living.”

“You say that because you are an optimist.” Dino took another sip of what was likely to have been the thousandth cup of coffee on the thousandth afternoon he’d spent with Peg.

Our ritual, he thought.

“I thought you’d agree, Mr. Hopeless Romantic,” she said teasingly.

He smiled and shook his head. “At least I’m steadfast. I don’t change my mind everyday.”

She smiled. To date it was still the best smile he’d ever seen. It lit up her face, crinkling that cute little nose, brightening those sparkling eyes. Whenever she smiled, he sighed just a little.

Today she was being a romantic and an optimist. Tomorrow she may be a cynic, though she always argued that she’s never cynical, just realistic. Peg’s changing mind and changing moods kept their conversations interesting.

“I do agree,” he said. “Just nice to hear you say it. It comforts me to hear you say romantic and optimistic things.”

“As opposed to cynical things? I’m never truly cynical, you know. I just know how to be a realist, which is important, don’t you think?”

“So you always say.”

“Well, it’s true.” She was swirling what was left of the black liquid in her cup. Peg believed in an old Turkish proverb about drinking black coffee with lots of sugar. It was a stark contrast to his hazelnut latte.

“Especially the falling in love part,” she continued. “You know I always say it’s like dizzy dancing.”

“You always say that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve never had any issues with falling in love. That’s the best part. It always is. It’s the maintaining of love after years that’s the hard part. That’s when it gets unromantic.”

“It’s romantic for as long as you keep it romantic.”

“Oh and I suppose you think you’ll be able to keep it so?”

“Given the chance,” he said, putting his cup down. “I think I could. I sure as hell would try.”

She looked at him. She’s considering what I just said. In his experience, Peg was never the type to readily agree or immediately disagree. She always thought it out, weighed both sides.

“Yes,” she said finally. “Yes. I think you could. If anyone could, it would be you. But I hope you know it isn’t going to be easy.”

Okay. Maybe she was being a realist today.

“I never said love is easy. I don’t live in a Disney world.”

She tilted her head to one side and smiled. He sighed a little, of course.

Ah. The head tilt. Whenever they debated on any point, tilting her head was the sign that she thought she was winning. He beat her to her next thought.

“But just because it isn’t easy, doesn’t mean it can be less than ideal.”

She frowned. Her nose crinkled in an entirely different way.

“I’ve noticed,” he said. “That on your realist days, you theorize that no one ever gets an ideal love or his or her idea of an ideal love. You say that people always settle somehow. I hate this idea—“

“No, what I mean is—“

“I know what you mean, Peg, and I know why you say so, but out of everyone I know, you shouldn’t settle. I don’t want you to have to settle in any way. You, you deserve the ideal.”

“You’re such a romantic,” she said softly. “You’re the run away, against all odds, you and me against the world type.”

“You know, the thing about that kind of romance is that it’s only romantic when you’re on the outside looking in. For the people in it, it’s agony.”

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “Are you telling me that love can be agony?”

He looked at her wide and staring eyes. She wasn’t expecting that. He laughed a little, knowing that she’d stay a while longer just to explore this topic.

“So,” she said slowly. “Romeo and Juliet. Tristan and Isolde… agony?”

“I thought you hated Romeo and Juliet?”

She nodded. “I do. But star-crossed lovers are a good example of ‘against all odds’.”

“Don’t you think they were in agony? First it was difficult for them to be together. Then, whatever bliss they had, it was fringed with fear and melancholy. And finally, of course it was agony. With Romeo and Juliet, they couldn’t live without each other. It resulted in their deaths.”

“I maintain that they were too young to make that decision, and they really lacked in the communication department, botching up a runaway plan…”

“The young never think they’re young. And it’s not like they had cell phones, Peg.”

She shrugged, and that made him laugh.

“You know, whenever you’re convinced of something, but aren’t willing to admit it, you shrug your shoulders.”

“Uh-huh. So…you have your ideal love, but it isn’t always easy. It can, in fact, be agony. Can you then admit that love is a choice?”

God. I hate this theory too.

“You can’t choose who you love,” he said, knowing what she would say.

“No! Not in the beginning! Later. When days are difficult. When you get to the everyday of it. Don’t you think you have to choose to love? To choose to love that person each day, even when they’re being difficult and you don’t exactly FEEL like loving them? Don’t you have to choose to make the effort to bring it back to the ideal?”

Now it was his turn to shrug. “No. Sometimes you still don’t have a choice. Having a choice means you can choose not to love someone, and I think, in true love, you just love.”

She rolled her eyes. “You frustrate the hell out of me sometimes… Buuut, you do remind me how to be a romantic, and I need that. I need you for that,” she said, reaching out to touch his hand.

Clack clack clack.

“I hear footsteps in the corridor,” she said. “I have to go.”

He sighed. “Yeah, you mentioned you had errands to do today… Don’t you want to talk about types of romance? I figured you’d ask about that instead of love being agony.”

Her eyes got a slightly faraway look. “Maybe tomorrow,” she said. “If I’m feeling romantic.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll see you soon.”

He stood up and both reluctantly and eagerly gave her a hug.

He watched her walk away and watched as she turned and waved before walking out the door. He looked down at the clear liquid in his cup and let out another sigh. Then leaned his head against the padded wall.