Second Tuesdays: A Collection

rejection

August 11, 1914 - Tuesday

Mary was sitting next to Bert, laughing at his ridiculous joke, when Bert's eyes started twinkling more than usual. He had been acting strange all night, and Mary realized why when Bert chose that moment to get down on one knee in front of her.

Her heart started racing. "Bert, don't," she whispered, yet he looked at her with complete adoration.

"Bert, I don't want to hurt you," she pleaded, a panicked edge in her voice.

"Mary," Bert whispered tenderly, completely undeterred. "I love you more than anythin'. I love every part of you. I want to spend my entire life with you. I want to share everything I have, and all that I am, even though it may not be much, with you. Mary Poppins, will you marry me?"

The love and adoration in his voice, his bright charismatic eyes, nearly broke her determination to refuse him, but she couldn't say yes, couldn't bear to condemn him to a life of unhappiness.

She tried to lighten the blow a little; it was almost unbearable to hurt him so.

"You wouldn't be happy with me as your wife. I would drive you crazy, leaving all the time." She tried to crack a smile, but failed utterly. Instead, tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

"And yet you always come back," Bert reasoned. "Mary, there's nothing you could say that would make me want you any less, nothing that could make me love you any less. Will you marry me, my love?"

"Please don't ask me that," she whispered, and it took all her willpower to keep the tears at bay. "There are so many reasons it wouldn't work, we wouldn't work, Bert."

"Tell me what they are, my love," Bert said softly.

Mary sighed as she saw how his eyes still sparkled hopefully up at her. He didn't deserve this, he had always been wonderful to her. Still he had asked for reasons, and she had to give them.

"We are so different, Bert, so very different, and I don't want to hurt you, but I don't see how I couldn't when I leave all the time! I wasn't made to settle down, even if I may want to, the wind won't let me. I can't. Please don't ask me again, I can't."

The tears fell now, and she looked down sharply, hoping to hide her vulnerability from him.

There was a heavy silence then, and Mary struggled to regain control of her breathing.

"Have you been happy with me, Mary?" Bert asked quietly. The sorrow she could hear in his voice wrenched at her heart, begging her to say yes.

"You know I have," she said carefully, still not meeting his eyes. "But we do not spend enough time together for our differences to become irritating."

She was desperate to make him understand that she could not marry him, not now, not ever. "There are so many reasons why it would be a bad idea Bert, we are so different in so many ways ..."

"Such as?" He queried with a quiver in his voice.

The pain in his eyes was easy to see, and the slight pallor of his face filled her with guilt, and so she tried to soften the blow. "You are a night person Bert, and I am a morning person, you would soon grow tired of me waking you up all the time."

"Mary, I would gladly wake at the crack of dawn for the rest of my life, if you were there with me," he answered gently.

"Bert please, you are not making this easy. You would end up hating me, I know you would, and for good reason. I can't be a wife to you. I can't belong to anybody, don't you see? I must belong only to the wind."