“I don’t want there to be a next time,” Arwin stated sullenly over a plate of spaghetti he’d barely picked at. “I want her. I want to marry her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”
His father gave him a sad smile. “There will be other girls, Arwin.”
Arwin scowled. “Will there? Will she be capable of real love? Or do women only care about money and themselves?”
“That’s the depression, talking, Arwin,” his mother kindly scolded him. “Not all women are like that.”
“But many are!” he stubbornly retorted. “Shall we go down to the bookstore and see how big the so-called romance section on billionaire bad boys is?”
She reluctantly nodded. “Some people are materialistic. Especially in this day and age of selfish indulgence and soft living. But not all are,” his mother insisted, taking no offence. “Yes, there are plenty of shallow, selfish women who only see their husbands as sources of free money and attention. But there are also others who truly care about the man they’re with and want true partnership.”
Arwin snorted. “I’m not sure I can believe it anymore. This isn’t the first time one of my girlfriends has turned out to be selfish, is it? Remember Alicia? The constant mood swings and drama? The possessiveness and jealousy? How everything had to be her way, all the time? Guys get such a bad rap; we’re labeled cheaters and people say we’re not in touch with our feelings, that we only care about sex. Like women are all saints. But it’s not true, is it? They can be every bit as bad as men, or worse. I loved Kelli with everything I had. I did everything for her. I treated her like a queen, like the hero in some Hollywood movie would. And she stabbed me in the back like it was nothing.” He sagged in his chair. “Why the hell is it so hard to find someone who honestly loves you back just as much?”
“That,” Arwin’s father said softly, “is a tough question with complicated answers that few people want to hear. Many people are selfish, of both genders. But your mother is right, there are diamonds in the rough. Your mother herself is one.”
“As is your father,” Arwin’s mother pointed out. “Women sometimes feel the same way after a breakup like yours. You’re not alone there. Both genders have their weaknesses and faults. We all thought the world of Kelli, but I guess we never got to know the real her. People are good at hiding their true selves. Or, sometimes they don’t even know who they really are until they’re put to the test. I’m not defending her, but maybe Kelli herself didn’t realize she was the type of person to betray her partner for money until this other guy came along and presented the opportunity.”
Arwin scoffed. “That’s no excuse for treating me the way she did. I mean, how can she be so utterly cold about it? It’s like she’s an entirely different person.”
“I hate to say it,” his mother admitted, “but maybe she never really loved you. Not that you don’t deserve to be loved; you do. You’re a wonderful person and your father and I are very, very proud of you. But perhaps she’s just not capable of feeling the same things, though that was never obvious to any of us. I guess it can be hard to tell the difference between someone who is just happy with you because they are enjoying themselves in the moment, and someone who truly loves you.”
Arwin sighed. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. I want to love someone and make them happy. But how can I ever trust anyone again?”
“You have to have faith that there are good people out there,” his mother told him, “and have faith in yourself.”
Arwin’s father gave his wife a warm smile before continuing. “Faith in people, once broken, can be hard to get back. But you have to try. I know it’s hard, but you’re going to have to take the initiative to pull yourself out of this hole. Time will help, but, ultimately, you will be far better off if your own initiative leads you to a better place.”
“Everything I do just makes things worse,” Arwin grumbled. “Nothing helps.”
His mother smiled and reached out to grab his hand. “Keep a journal of your thoughts. Work through things that way. Get it out of your head and onto paper. I’ve always found that to be very therapeutic. Sometimes, it’s better than trying to talk to friends.”
Keeping a journal turned out to be a great idea. He filled pages and pages. It really helped him think through things and brought clarity to his feelings. To his surprise, he’d finish an entry and feel almost like himself again for a good couple of hours afterwards.
Time passed. It generally does that. Usually in a relentless fashion regardless of our own wishes or needs. Rarely does it bother to stop and ask us if we’re all right and ready to continue. Time is a heartless bastard.
But, in time, he did gradually feel better. Or, at least, not as bad as before. The chemical imbalance in his brain began to even out. It helped to be around loving parents. The journal writing, once he forced himself to do it again, helped. The darkness in his mind lightened to a grayness and the pain dulled.
He wasn’t dwelling on the past quite as much, but now he had no idea what to do with his future. He felt lost.
One Saturday, in a bit of a blue funk, Arwin tried to distract himself with chores but quickly grew restless and put them aside. “Would you mind if I borrowed the car?” he asked his father, feeling blah. “I just, I dunno, want to go for a drive and get some air or something.”
“Sure.” His supportive father handed him the keys, no questions asked.
Arwin got in the car, started it, backed out of the driveway and headed towards the main road. Without even really planning to, he found himself leaving the suburbs and aiming towards the highway out of town. Beyond was the vast and quiet countryside, nature everywhere. It was completely opposite to the crowded and busy city that housed the agents of his misery. Escape was just what he needed. Leaving the buildings behind, he felt his mood lighten.
He drove down the open highway and a limitless stretch of straight road stretched out as far as the eye could see under a sunny sky that stretched from one horizon to another. It was all very stretchy. With each passing kilometre he began to feel a little better. On either side of the road lay vast fields of golden wheat and bright yellow canola, punctuated with tractors and irrigation systems. And there were cows, of course.
On impulse, he took a quiet, little-used exit, intending to park and simply sit for a while and enjoy the quiet and solitude. He drove down a gravel road. On one side of him was a wheat field and a forest beyond. On the other was a muddy cattle ranch full of lazy cows. Ok, that wasn’t fair. Surely, only a few of them were lazy. Others were probably very productive at…whatever it was cows did. Make cow pies?
He turned a corner, making his way past a small copse of trees and found that he was speeding towards a giant pink dragon that was laying across the road, not far from a large pile of fresh-cut flowers, the kind you see as tributes at a place where people have recently died. The dragon was monstrously large, as big as a house at least, with darker pink scales on its back and on its bat-like wings, fading to light pink and then white on its underbelly and throat. The beast was munching on a freshly charred cow, smoke still wafting from blackened beef. The dragon raised its great head and gave Arwin a stern look with large, white, reptilian eyes.
Arwin’s eyes went wide. “What the maple syrup?” he gasped.
A little pink baby dragon waddled out of the tall grass next to the road. Arwin saw it at the last second and swerved. Desperate to avoid the creature, he shot right off the road and towards the copse of trees. The air in front of him shimmered.
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