A love story. AULD LANG SYNE by Dewey Edward Chester. Enjoy your day, Yareah friends. Love and Art is everywhere. Merry Christmas.
And so I began thinking about Samantha. The thought of her came back to me stronger than ever before. I remembered every moment of our lives together.
It was absurd of course, and yet it seemed I remembered her laughter, her words, her phrases —- an inflection of music, floating through time.
As a Politician, I walked to the middle of the platform stage. I reminded myself I was resigning from Office, today. I nodded to news reporters, and made no comment other than to ask when the cameras would roll.
I was introduced, then nodded and began speaking to a television audience of millions.
When I finished, I stepped back; the camera lights went out. Flash bulbs popped as America’s press core went to work; asking about the murder.
I raised my hand for pause: “Gentlemen,” I declared, “beyond what I have said on-air, I have no further comments. No pictures; no more questions, until—–” My speech slurred, I faltered, spotting Samantha getting out of a Yellow Cab, parked across the street.
My eyes belonged to her, as she dodged traffic to reach me. And then we embraced. “You look wonderful!” she offered, first.
“So do you…”
Our eyes met and made love for an instant. “What happened to us?” she asked, but I smiled politely, offering —- “We played a ball game, Sam.”
She replied, “I don’t believe that!” Her cheeks reddened.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Love!” she declared, “is not a ball game.”
“But I’ve thought of it that way.”
“Games are not real,” she looked into my eyes, and then wiped tears from her own.
“What’s past is past, Samantha, but our experience adds up to just one thing: you’re going to get back in that Yellow Cab.”
“Listen! Do you have any idea the kind of future you will have with me? Don’t you understand that?”
“You’re saying these things to make me go.”
“I’m saying them because they’re true! Inside, you know I’m right. If you don’t leave me now, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today; not tomorrow, but for the rest of your life —-!”
“What about us?”
“Well….,” I paused. “Our love is forever!”
“And I told myself I would never leave you.”
“You never will, Samantha. But I’ve got a job to do. Men like me have difficult lives. Where I’m going you dare not follow. What I’ve got to do, you shouldn’t be any part of.
“Look, Sam! I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that I’m telling you the truth. A woman like you, who loves a man like me, is foolish. Someday, you’ll understand.”
Of course, I didn’t mean a word I said. I loved her deeply, but there was no other way to set her free. She put her hand to my cheek; put her mouth against mine, her body against mine. This is where she wanted to be: close, touching, loving —- that’s what she wanted.
My arms reached around her, my muscles bulged, my hand cradled her head, and my fingers lost themselves in the tangles of her hair. “I gotta go,” I whispered, sadly.
“I know,” she spoke coldly, then offered —- “Will we ever see each other, again?”
From my finger, I pulled off my ring and gave it to her. It was the most I had to give. Then I turned to leave.
“Sweetheart?” she called, softly: “See Ya!”
She watched me grin. “See Ya, Sam!” I called back.