A re-telling of the true 12th century love story of Heloise and Abelard. Abelard is a great philosopher and theologian who has taken, like many academics of the time, a vow of celibacy. When he is hired as a tutor for the brilliant and beautiful Hel...
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I told you the rest of our lives would be lived in the shadow of our past.
If I had my way, our marriage would not have been a rushed and mechanical affair. I regretted having married him at all. Yes, I now had the title of husband attached to me, but nowhere did I have my lover. The title meant nothing to me, if it could not be filled with him. He, the living breathing spirit of him, burst beyond every border of that title. And now, so far away from me, he hardly filled it.
The titles of husband and wife stood against us like horrible parodies.
This is why I had never wanted to marry him. I felt that to marry was to tarnish a love - it was to draw lines around something that begged for no lines. It turned what sprang naturally from our hearts into an inscribed duty... and the weight of this duty pressed onto our love. Like a flower trying to bloom under the heavy press of stones, it would wilt.
He stopped writing to me.
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All at once, he'd torn himself from me and I was left bleeding. I saw him everywhere - I saw remnants of him in his childhood home; I saw him in my son's eyes...
I would sit against the window all day, feeling limp and lifeless. I could not write or read a single word. Me, the once-great scholar, so reduced to a wilting collection of sorrow.
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