Fool for Love
Disclaimers: These characters were created entirely by me. Please do not use them or repost this story
without permission. This story features dark themes,
mildly naughty language and a loving and sexual
relationship between women.
All You Need is Love
“Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat
it.” These words hung above the
blackboard in my 9th grade history class, but I never really
understood what they meant. Probably
because I never paid any attention to my 9th grade history teacher.
I think I get it now, though.
When I look back at my recent history, I can see all the
mistakes I’ve made. First, I made
the mistake of trusting someone too much. I gave someone my heart, and she
handed it back to me on a plate. What
did I learn from that? Not the
right lesson, of course. No, that
would have been far too easy. Instead,
I learned not to trust anyone that completely ever again.
Then I met Faith and we clicked. At first, I was content to be happily head over heels in
love. But before long, those
whispering voices in my head began eating away at me.
Faith was too good to be true. She
was going to put my heart in a blender --- just like all the others before her.
So what did I do? Fool that
I am, I let my doubts overwhelm me. And
at the first chance I had, I tried to crush her spirit before she could crush
Obviously, neither one of these tactics makes for a happy
and stable relationship. They
didn’t do much for my own personal mental and emotional health, either.
Especially since I often have the maturity level of a five-year-old.
I sulked. I pouted.
I whined. I did everything
except take a good, hard look at myself in a mirror.
Which is something I should have done a long time ago.
Luckily for me, I was given another chance to get it right.
When Faith called me on New Year’s Eve, I was shocked.
I was certain that she had forgotten all about me.
I thought she had moved on with her life.
After all, I was trying to move on with mine, although I wasn’t doing a
very good job of it. I just
couldn’t believe that she might actually want me back.
So many thoughts and memories tangled together in my head
as I drove towards the beach that night. I
remembered the first time we met, when Faith saved my life.
Sometimes I still wonder if someone upstairs deliberately put her in my
path or if it was mere coincidence.
Cars rushed past me on the freeway as I drove, but I was
oblivious to them. I was lost in
the memory of our first kiss. It
was so tentative and sweet, but it held such a promise of passion.
A preview of coming attractions, I suppose.
Several times, as I gazed out my dirty windshield, I almost
remembered the look in Faith’s eyes on the night we broke up.
I did my best to push those images from my brain.
If I had allowed myself to drown in that guilt and shame again, I
probably would have turned the car around.
I didn’t want to do that. I
wanted to see Faith again. Hell, I needed
to see Faith again.
The first raindrops began to hit my windows as I exited the
freeway. In just a few more
minutes, I would be at the beach. My
palms grew sweaty and slick on the steering wheel and anxiety twisted my insides
until my stomach churned. Each red
light lasted an eternity. Each
swoosh and squeak of my windshield wipers sounded like the ticking of a clock.
When I pulled into the parking lot, there were only a few
lonely cars left. Most of the town
would be at the boardwalk for the big New Year’s celebration.
That was fine with me, since I didn’t want to see anyone else, anyway.
Only Faith. I spotted her
battered old Ford and my heart took permanent lodging in my throat. She was really here.
Her car was empty, as I had expected.
She would be down on the beach. I
parked my car and crossed the asphalt to the wooden steps that led down to the
sand. My knees were quivering and
my fingernails dug into my palms until I thought they would bleed.
The light rain became a steady downpour, but I scarcely
noticed it. I jammed my fists into
the pockets of my jeans and started down the steps. I was barely conscious, but my feet seemed to know where they
were going. I simply followed them
across the dark, wet sand.
A jagged pile of rocks loomed before me --- the same rocks
that I had been precariously perched on the night that I met Faith.
Tonight, she was sitting at the base with her knees pulled tight against
her chest. She stood as I
approached. Her long blonde hair
was pulled back from her face, just as it had been the first time I had seen
her. She had lost weight, though.
The clothes that used to cling to every curve now almost hung from her
frame. But she was still beautiful.
The most beautiful sight I had ever seen.
Her gentle brown eyes met mine, and I melted.
I resisted the urge to reach out and take her in my arms.
It was probably a little too soon for that.
Neither or us had spoken yet, and I wondered if I should go first. A dozen or so opening lines flitted through my mind.
I settled on the first question that I had ever asked her.
“So, do you come here often?” My voice cracked, revealing my nervousness.
Faith blinked at me, and a sad, rueful smile twitched at
the corners of her lips.
“Only when I’m looking for girls to rescue,” she
A tiny spark ignited somewhere in the depths of my soul.
Maybe we weren’t over, after all.
Maybe there was still hope. Suddenly,
words began tumbling out of my mouth without my permission.
I told her how sorry I was, that I had never meant to hurt
her, that I loved her. I told her
that I understood her anger, that I didn’t blame her for hating me, that I
hated myself. I did everything
except grovel in the sand at her feet. I
was saving that for later.
Faith’s eyes widened and filled with tears.
She shook her head slowly.
“Kara, I don’t. I
thought....” Her voice trailed off.
Without warning, she sank to her knees and buried her face
in her hands. Her shoulders shook
violently and each low, strangled sob ripped through my heart.
Mentally, I kicked myself. I
sat down beside her. I wanted to
put my arm around her shoulders, but I wasn’t sure if it was the right time.
I wrestled with that question for a moment. Oh, to hell with it. I
reached out and pulled her close.
“I thought you hated me,” Faith whispered without
looking at me.
I couldn’t believe my ears.
How could she think that? After
everything I had done to her, how could she possibly blame herself?
Outrage welled up in me. Didn’t
she know that I was the fool? Not
I lifted her chin and gazed directly into her eyes.
This was it. If our relationship was going to be saved, this was the
moment of truth. Don’t ask me how
I knew that, I just did.
“I could never hate you, Faith. I love you.”
Then it hit me like a runaway freight train.
I could never hate her, because I loved her.
I loved her when we laughed together.
I loved her when we fought with each other.
I loved her, no matter what. Just.
Like. She. Loved. Me. As epiphanies go, this was a pretty important one.
I leaned back against the rocks and began to laugh weakly.
Faith eyed me somewhat suspiciously.
“What’s so funny?”
“I love you,” I repeated.
God, I loved how that sounded. I
laughed harder as my tears mixed with the rain.
“Why is that funny?” Faith demanded.
“I don’t know,” I admitted between fits of laughter.
She looked at me like I had crossed over into looney-toon
land. Then, tentatively at first,
she began to laugh too. We sat
there for several minutes, laughing until our sided ached.
“You’re crazy, you know,” Faith said.
“Yeah, I know.”
Faith sighed. “I
guess we have a lot to talk about.”
I nodded. She
was right --- we had a lot of issues to work out.
Some of it wouldn’t be easy. But
for the first time, I believed that it was possible.
Faith nudged my ribs.
“Come on. Let’s go
Home. I rolled
the word around in my mouth, savoring the feel of it. Faith didn’t get it. I
was here with her in my arms. I was
When we left the beach that night, I knew I was finally
ready to start my life. And I knew
that my life was with Faith. Oh,
don’t get me wrong, I’m still not sure I believe in fairy-tales and all that
other nonsense. But there’s one
thing I have learned. Love may not
conquer all, but it’s a hell of a start.