Unfinished novel

2024 Author: James Gerald | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 14:00

… The story must be over, it must have an end:

sad, happy, cheerful, stupid - but the end.

E. Schwartz "An Ordinary Miracle".

Green sunny landscapes are replaced by colorful autumn nostalgia. Light sadness will be covered with frost and fluffy shining snow. Then a duet of waking birds and running streams will give new love. And it will bloom and renew itself again. And again - yellow-red patterns of falling beauty … And so life goes on: new impressions replace previous ones, previously unknown feelings appear. A different quality and understanding of life comes. A"

But something makes us occasionally wake up in tears. Something suddenly makes us sad in the midst of all the fun. It forces you to remember insignificant little things and be surprised at their significance. Look at loved ones with unfamiliar eyes. And to say to myself the words that were not spoken at one time. Someone. Long unborn monologues sharpened in thought to a literary masterpiece. That there is no one to speak to, because he - the very one to whom the streams of words are directed - has long been gone by your side. Now he lives in someone else's lives.

People can rarely maintain warm human relationships - since personal ones did not work out. The bitter taste still remains. Together with imperfection. He has long since disappeared around the bend, and you still want to tell him. Streams of reproaches or explanations, late confessions or long-suffering aloof courtesies. Or maybe a tacit desire to hug him. But there must be some kind of completion, and exactly the same, and not imposed replacements. Each person is alone in his experiences and discoveries. The only thing he can do is share. With all that he could understand …

Sonya's story is remarkable already in that it is unremarkable. The usual chronicle of uncomplicated love. The story of people who have passed, perhaps, by something real. Those who did not notice the light …

It seems that in the era of the Internet, the love-epistolary genre is taking on a second wind. There were many letters, but Sonya remembered only two: the first and the last. It gave hope and destroyed it.

"… I am grateful to fate that brought you and me together on that memorable day. I look forward to meeting you. I want to hug you tenderly." Then there was a lot of things, and a lot of things weren't. It turned out that he saw not Sonya, but his own image of Sonya. I wanted her to match, but she didn't even know what. He did not compromise - it was with her that he wanted an ideal relationship. Which, of course, proved to be impossible. And then Sonya received the laconic: "We are different. And not made for each other. Goodbye." It was a night of emptiness, with tears and an old plush blanket. There was an attempt to fix something, but mutual claims built a wall with powerful fortifications and even turrets. She suggested not to burn all the bridges, leaving at least the possibility of New Year's greetings. He preferred the either-or option. Eternal love or you go to hell …

Time has passed, which heals, but does not always cure. New people appeared, and each of them was dear to Sonya. New impressions appeared. But the understatement remained. Not an attempt to return, no, you really cannot glue a broken vase, but an attempt to tell. Free the soul from … she didn't know exactly what. Maybe tell him she's sorry. Or maybe talk about your feelings. Or ask, "Are you really happy?" Or silently look in the eyes and try to see the answer there. Why the more sincere the tenderness, the more painful it is for the soul? And how can you “be grateful to fate,” and then harshly delete both it and your feelings? For what? For the sake of an abstract woman who will meet all the standards in the world?.. Just to understand how two people defending their freedom in spite of love, failed to understand that love is freedom …

In psychology, there is such a concept: "unfinished gestalt". Incomplete emotions. Lack of a logical emotional ending. Gestalt therapy has received many clients just because no one has ever been able to agree and get a feel for it. All that was so painful. This is how the era began, not of experiences, but of the processing of one's emotions. Or - they live with unspokenness for years, and then go to group psychodrama classes, acting out their imperfection there. Psychodrama helps to find answers, there is an opportunity to ask, although there is no one for a long time, and to answer himself, imagining himself in the place of a failed lover. There is an opportunity to understand. Complex professional therapy is replaceable with simple home therapy: just two empty chairs, in one you are you, in the other you are him. Simple and effective, like everything true. The art of reincarnation turns the page. Frees from old unnecessary cargo.

But Sonya did not talk to the furniture, and did not even write diaries, relieving her tormented soul - she wanted to see that person. Make eye contact and reach out. Ask never to hurt anyone again. Do not tie people to yourself if they are not needed. Destroy the myth of suffering women and indifferent men. She did not want to slip into belated claims, but was going to just ask. It is naive and, most likely, to no avail.

She remembered that once he had not returned her a book that was really dear to her. Not that much, though. Appeared out of nowhere, offered to return. "Okay, - he was not surprised, - come." On the way, Sonya scrolled through the possible options in her head. He opens the door, holds out the book, she silently looks at him.

He: Hey?

She: I'm still loving you…

He: What's the matter?

She: Why, I forgot to tell you what a scoundrel you are …

He: Haven't seen you in ages. Didn't you get married?

She: After you, they don't take …

He: Good luck.

She: continues to stare at the closed door.

Doorbell. "Hi," he said, "you look great as always. Would you like some tea?" In his apartment it was as if those years did not exist. A table lamp that Sonya once gave. Even the mess on the table is the same. Tea with cognac - and suddenly she began to tell how she was doing well. Both at work - wonderful, and in personal life - amazing … The old logic "look how bad I am, and it's all because of you" retreated, opening the way for a new and unexpected: "look how good I am, and all this without you". He listened, smiled, showed photographs. Another man. The one to whom the unspoken words were meant is no more. And for so many years she carried these words in herself …

It turns out that everything must be done on time. Or that long-standing emotions ruin life and require an exit. Or that meeting people from the past changes the present, and sometimes even the future. And you can not draw any conclusions. After all, in essence, any story is unfinished …