Edward

“Guilt is a funny beast” she said as she allowed her regret to cascade onto the floor.

He picked it up and dusted it off a little. A tiny box packed with angles and secrets. His regret was large and smooth, roughly the size of a planet which he kept neatly tucked behind his left ear.

He handed her the box which she promptly returned to its rightful place, snuggled between love and truth in the centre of her chest.

“I fail to see the comic value of guilt,’ he returned, wiping his hands on a towel. Her regret not his to absorb.

“Everything is funny if you give it a party hat” she said “or give it an endearing name. Take my fear for example, my fear is called Edward”

He looked at the blossoming abyss where her stomach should have been and shook his head “I don’t see anything endearing about Edward.”

“Shhh” she warned “he’ll hear you. And don’t be rude. There’s nothing wrong with guilt and fear as such. They are a part of us.”

“Even when they cause us pain?” he asked. For even as he spoke he felt that familiar needle on his shoulder blade as guilt worked its way slowly into his system. An intravenous sliding through his soul, drip drip dripping.

Her beautiful hips so full of sadness swayed as she considered his questions.
“Especially when they cause us pain.”

He raised his anger laden eyebrows and accepted her invitation to sit.

“Gratitude” she said, joining him, “dissolves all demons because it is the only way you will find peace with them.”

“I cannot feel Gratitude” he returned “I cannot, I will not, I want not.”

“Well, why not?” she asked.

He said nothing, only pulled back his shirt collar to reveal a brusie of resent crawling from the edge of his neck to the corners of his waist.

“This”

She edged closer inspecting the sprawl of damaged skin. “Have you ever touched it?” she asked.

“No way. Why would I want to?”

“Because the particular thing about resent is its softness. Like a cowering child seeking solace in your arms. Don’t you think it interesting that it is reaching down your shoulder like that?” she asked.

She shifted away from the curiosity in her fingers and covered himself.

“No. I never think about it. I would rather clothe it, hide it, ideally kill it before I get to know it in any way.”

She turned to him fully and raised her eyes. The eyes which made the confusion in his elbow swell to the point of bursting. Eyes full of kindness and sorrow and complexity and laughter.

Finally her lips, heavy with honesty, uttered:

“We all hide our pain in different ways
But it makes no sense to spend our days
scathing it, scratching it, tearing it down.

For when we are grateful for all that we’ve got
the joy and the suffering, the light and the rot
We can wear our sorrows like we wear a crown

A crown full of everything
A crown full of life.”

“So yes” she concluded “feel your resent and find your gratitude. Feel your sadness and you will find joy. Name your fear and you will find love. No hiding here, no killing. It is a part of you. Everything is a part of you, in the same way, we are a part of everything.”

He surrendered, wavering between victory and defeat.

“Fine” he said “but there’s no way I’m calling mine Edward”