The Story of a Woman, and Her Love

We met at his concert.  One look was all it took, I knew I loved him.  We shared a smile, and when the concert was over and everyone was gone, we remained.  We stayed up all night talking.

Weeks later, our relationship was official.  Boyfriend and girlfriend.  Not long after, he took me home to meet his parents.  I loved them, and they loved me.  

We'd been together for six months when the trouble started.  Because of his line of work, he was gone for long periods of time.  I felt like I never got to see him.  My love was still as strong as the day we met, but he started treating me differently.  I didn't know what was going on.  Did he still love me?

Seven months after that concert that started it all, we broke up.  I couldn't take it anymore, I didn't see love in his eyes when he looked at me.  Loving someone with your whole heart and knowing they didn't love you back is one of the hardest things I've ever done.

I still contacted his parents.  We didn't speak of him, but they asked how my life was going.  It was going, that's all that mattered.  I watched sadly as magazines exploded with stories of him, his newest girlfriend, his next big show.  Eventually, I stopped looking at them.  I couldn't stand hearing those things.  I still loved him, even after all this time.

Some nights, I woke up crying.  As the numbers on the clock blinked green, telling me it was midnight, I replayed all the memories of our time together.  I'd wake up in the morning with a smile, but it soon was replaced with a melancholy expression.  

The reporters showed up at my house some time.  Begging to get the inside scoop on our relationship.  The title was planned out in their heads: "Ex-girlfriend tells all!"  But I politely refused.  Seven months.  We didn't even make it a year, but they should have gotten their fill during that time.  It didn't matter anyway, he didn't see me at all and eventually the paparazzi went away.  I was left alone again.

I tried my hardest not to mope around the house.  I lived my life like a normal person, perhaps with more ice cream in my diet than most.  By then, it had been exactly two months since the breakup.  If we had stayed together, this would've been our nine month anniversary.  Instead, he was kissing some girl in front of an expensive Italian restaurant.  I turned off the news and read a book.

It was December now.  I had been fired from my job and the rent was late on my apartment.  The next time his parents called to wish me a happy holidays and ask how my life was, I told them I was perfectly fine, I missed them, and I'd talk to them later.  My phone lines were cut the next day, and my water turned off.  I stayed up all night and searched for a job.

Christmas morning, my house remained dark, and my landlord gave me a warning.  Be out by tomorrow or else.  Merry Christmas.  So I was out in the streets.  Please, please, I need a place to stay.  I was like a stray cat begging on a corner, pleading with my eyes.  Take me home, feed me.  I need a place to stay.

The tabloids the next day sported the shocking revelation that he had broken up with his latest girlfriend.  I ignored the fluttering in my chest, but bought a pre-paid phone card so that I could call his parents and wish them happy holidays and thank them.  They insisted I visit their house for New Years.

I found a job, and rented a smaller apartment.  Although in the time I didn't have a place to call my own, I spent the nights in a shelter, and so wasn't too bad off.  By New Years, I could pay for a cab and a dessert to bring.  They asked the usual questions, I told them I was fine.  And I was.  I was content.  

He showed up that night.  Straight from his fancy house and into the main room of his parent's home.   His mother swore she didn't know he was coming home, but I saw the sparkle in her eye.  

I avoided him.

The next day, we ran into each other on the street.  The two of us made awkward small talk before falling into more comfortable conversation.  We walked away with smiles on our faces.

After that, I saw him more often.  

I went through some rough times in the past year, but I didn't blame him for any of them.  I was solely responsible for my own life, and I survived.  But during one of our daily coversations, eventually the subject came up about my new living quarters.  I was surprised and couldn't think of a lie fast enough.  For the rest of January, useful presents showed up at my door.  I knew it was him, and I always tried to say thanks.  He brushed it off.

He leftt again.  For his next big tour.  Gone for six months.  My life slowly turned around, my fortune steadily inclining.  In all this time, the little gifts never ceased.  Everytime I needed something badly, but couldn't afford it, it was at my door the next day.  Our conversations continued too, as he paid for my cell phone bill.  So I could always get in touch with his parents, he said, but I didn't believe him.  I appreciated it though, and thanked him every night.

The day of his last show, back in our town again, a man showed up at my door and asked me to follow him.  He assured me he had no ill intentions, and so I went.  To my surprise, we showed up at the concert arena.  

I was led through the hallways and backstage until I could see him, up on the stage performing.  With one look, I knew I still loved him.  He met my eyes, and we shared a smile.  When the conert was over and everyone gone, we remained.  We spent the rest of the night talking.

After two months, he asked me to be his girlfriend again.  I agreed.  I couldn't stay away any longer.  And when I looked into his eyes, the love was there.  He looked at me lovingly, and it was added into the memories that played across my mind every night.  I stayed up late, almost until midnight, just remembering, this time with a smile.

A year had passed now since he got back together.  We took things slower this time around, and our relationship blossomed.  The love between us grew stronger.

He eventually quit his job.  He was home all the time now, and he didn't need to work because he had been famous at one time.  He had everything he would ever need.  I didn't need anything.  Just him, and his love. 

We had been dating again for two years when he got down on one knee, pulled out a ring, and asked me to marry him.  Our wedding date was set, invitations sent out.  His parents were ecstatic.

We were married on the date that we had first met.  The concert that started it all.  In the years to come, our wedding was my favorite midnight memory.