The Argument

Hello My Fellow Writers! I know that has been a while since you have heard from me, but as we all know sometimes life can grab us by the boo boo!!! Well I finally did it, I am finally graduating! During this final semester I had the privilege and joy of taking a Creative Writing class and Professor Knox was a joy to have as a teach mentor and fellow writer. This is one of  stories for my class. Please enjoy as I present... The argument...

     I see them walking down the street, just like they have every single week since I have moved to this neighborhood in the 5^th grade some 5 odd years ago. Why do they even take this walk every week? I wonder. You can tell they are far from happy with each other, but week after week here they come.

     As they stroll down the broken sidewalk it always starts the same. They are laughing and joking as they walk hand in hand. They sit down on the same worn out bench on the east side of the park and start talking about their plans for the week. I don’t even know why I listen, I feel so nosey, yet I cannot help myself. It’s like my very own reality show, right outside my window.

     The bench they are sitting on seems to be the perfect spot in the whole place. The breeze hits ever so softly against your face and in the evenings the sunset from that spot is like looking straight into heaven. The street lights are beginning to flicker indicating it is almost time for many to go. Parents and their children are playing on the swings and I can hear yelling, laughter, and the occasional bark of a dog. It is still very loud, but my ears are able to zero in on this couples conversation, everything else around me turns into a low hum.

    After the laughter and jokes, the girl she says something wrong, just as she normally does. I do not know what she says that makes him so angry, that’s one part I have yet to figure out.  However every week there is always something that she does that makes the man so angry. To me it seems to be because she has a mind of her own. Am I too young to understand?

     She says, “I want the new house decorated modern, it is time to throw everything out.” I step back. Oh no! Doesn’t she know him? Even I know him by now. The man is gorgeous; you can tell he is Hispanic, but gives new meaning to the term tall, dark, and handsome. His best feature are those almond shaped, piercing dark brown eyes with eyelash’s that go for miles, so much that I am jealous of him, they look like they should belong to a girl, yet on him they go perfect. That is until the man gets angry.

     The look of love in his eye changes like a gust in the wind. Those same beautiful eyes change so quickly that you think that you’re looking at another person. They glass over and they seem darker than before. The lines in his forehead deepen and his frown shows a preview what is about to come. His breathing begins to quicken, as he stares straight ahead like as if his body is made of stone.  Instead of telling the girl how much it hurts him that she wants to change the house after he worked so hard to make it perfect for her, he just sits there thinking not only of why he is mad at her for wanting to make these changes, but about every fight that they have had in the last two weeks, so that he is prepared with ammunition should he need a come back.

     Those once beautiful eyes look at the girl was such disgust and hate it is hard to even imagine that they have ever been in love. There must be something about this girl he loved once. She looks so tiny next to him; at least a foot shorter. She is also Hispanic, but almost looks white she’s so light. She has huge dark down eyes with almost no lashes at all and when she smiles it creates these deep dimples across each of her cheeks. I love her hair as it flows down to her waist with curls that I have only seen on the teen magazines I obsess over. She is not skinny, but definitely far from fat, with her very large top and hips perfectly done, you can see why he stays around, even if he always seems to always be angry with her. I wonder if my body will look like that someday? I look in the mirror each day hoping that it will become just a little more like hers.

     The girl always seems so positive, a look of love and hope gleaming in her eyes. She always has so much to say and so many questions to ask that sometimes it can be hard to keep up with the conversation at times. Many times he has to sometimes tell her to slow down so that he can keep up with it all. 

     I can tell she’s done it now. Even tough she knows that his anger is something to fear she cannot help herself she wants to know what’s on his mind. Does he like my idea? Why does he look like that? Did I say something wrong? She then begins to realize that she really angered him, but cannot understand herself since in her mind there is no reason to be mad. Her mind starts going rampant by this time and she starts getting upset and really anxious. Why does everything I say make him mad? How bad is going to be this time? What can I do or day to avoid the argument if I don’t know what I’ve done wrong? 

     She starts biting her lip waiting for him to say something. Her nervous twitch I call it starts happening. She scratches her head and begins playing with her hair.  She begins to tap her right foot against the bench. She tends to do this every time that she starts getting nervous or upset.

     “What now?” she finally says with a deep frustrated sigh.

     “What do you mean what now? What is wrong with the way things are now?” he replies his tone clearly giving her a warning that she better answer correctly. “What’s wrong with the things we have now? Are they not good enough for you?”

      She tries to explain, but its too late now. “I never said that. I just thought since we are moving into a new house maybe we can start fresh. You know a new start. Why don’t you let me do things my way? So what if I want something knew? Is it so hard for you to understand that?” she argues with attitude in her voice.

     He rolls his eyes. “Sure you did. You know what you’re nothing but a jerk. You want new stuff fine, but don’t ask me for help with setting it up.”

            I peek out the window and look at the girl. She sits there still shaking her right leg as tears start to fill up those huge Bambi eyes. I feel so bad for her, but then I think, “What if she really is a snob?” I start feeling sorry for him too. You can see she is willing herself not to cry, and although she tries her best a single tear makes its way down her cheek. She wipes it away from her quickly so that he doesn’t see. I try my best to turn away, but this is when it really starts getting good.

            “Why do you always have to be so mean?” she says ever so softly.

            “Boo hoo!” he smirks, “why so you always have to cry like a baby. What? You wanted to be all high and mighty, now you want to cry?”

            “I don’t know. It just hurts me when you say ugly things like that to me.”

            “Then why do you say stupid things to piss me off?” His nostrils are flaring; his eyes are glassed over with rage.

            “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that would make you mad.”

            “What are you stupid, simple, or slow?” he says as he gets up and storms off. Let him leave, I am thinking to myself.

     She sits there crying even more now that he’s walked off because the more she does it in front of him the angrier he becomes. Just when I think she has finally had enough of this man she sprints down the street after him, just like many other weeks before.

            “Please don’t go! We can work things out! Please. Fine whatever you want, we can leave things the way that they are,” she pleads pathetically as she chases him down the street.

            “Why do you want to piss me off all the time? Quit crying, you’re nothing but a nag who all she does is groan, moan, and complain. No way I am leaving your pathetic self cause when you talk to me like that I feel like backhanding you across the face,” he yells.

He doesn’t even care that he has gotten the attention of other patrons in the park. Many of them look concerned and even embarrassed for her, yet no one does anything to help. Would he dare hit her?  I want to walk across the street over and try to help myself, but I am too stunned and my feet won’t move from beneath me.

     I sit there for a moment, my heart completely crushed. Is this what relationships are really like? If this is that case I will be alone forever. All the fairy tales I watched throughout my childhood years all but forgotten. There is no white in shining armor. I feel betrayed. Is there really no such thing as happy ever after?

     I regain my composure, wipe the tears away from my eyes that I didn’t even know that were there and quickly stand up. What if he hurts her? What if she hurts him? Just as I am about to run out the door, I look out the window and what do I see? I am more confused than I was before. They are hugging each other. My mouth is hitting the floor.

     “I am so sorry, let’s not fight.” She replies, as she holds onto him ever so tight.

     “It is okay. I love you,” he says with a smile on his face. They walk back up the sidewalk hand in hand laughing; ready to tackle on the week as if all those hateful words were never said.

     I am dumbfounded, sad, and in awe all at once. Is this the way that love is supposed to be? Will I know that a man loves me because he says things to bring me down then lifts me back up? If the movies have taught me anything, it’s that a man is supposed to sweep me off my feet. I am not sure how much longer I can watch these two? As much as I cannot help myself I must learn how to control it. I may be young, but I don’t want love to me like this! I want it to be like it is in romantic comedies. Maybe I’ll as my mom if I can trade her rooms; her window looks out to some buildings. Buildings can let me believe in the fairy tale.