Soul Mates Never Die

[Lost-Chances]

Hey, new story, just hoped if I could get some reviews about it and what I can fix or be careful of in the future.

By the way, back story, someone told me to write about a love story between a gay male and a lesbian female.

Soul-Mates Never Die.

Back in the early 1990s, while gay rights were being pushed, there were still discrimination. You couldn't put your finger on it but you could taste it in the air, the tip of your tongue reacted in such a subtle sour way that most people never noticed it, but I did. Maybe it was because I was part of the butt of it. "I am Charlie McThene and I am gay" I muttered to myself, small bits of air escaping through my lips as though to kiss and then whisper to the winds my confession, just as though I'm at an AA meeting; or worse: One of those Christian camps where they "convert" the homosexual. A small shot of cold ice shot up my spine as I remembered this. I knew about Christian conversion too well since it was one of the things my parents pleaded with me during the month after I told my mother and father about my feelings towards sexes after a Sunday roast. This was before I moved out in about '82. There's only so much "you're confused" and "let me help fix you" you can take before you snap, one "fuck off" gets taken too personal and you're kicked out with some cuts and bruises to rest uneasy on.

Luckily, I had someone to stay with. I grew up with a girl since year 5 called Josephine, or Jo as she preferred to be called. Josephine was a lesbian, a lipstick type who could fit in with the rest of the girls easily. Meanwhile, I was a gay who could fit in with the rest of the boys very easily. We both had our little quirks which were there if you looked hard enough. Things like how I'd sometimes hum The Carpenters while Jo usually didn't wear as much make-up as her friends. She came out to me when I was 14 and I told her I was gay about six months after, probably a month before I truly knew myself after an accidental fling with the opposite sex. I had gone to her place with tears still streaming from my eyes after the hour walk with only the very few things I could haul in a bag that while did not belong to me, my father considered a spare so he let me have it just so he could see me and everything that symbolised me gone. Almost like instinct, as she saw me on the door step with my bag, she hugged me and whispered in my ear "I'm sorry things with your parents worked out like this". I knew she knew what I had been through. She invited me in where I spent about an hour and a half cuddling her, crying my eyes out.

She was living with her girlfriend, Frances, who didn't mind me staying as long I pulled my own weight. I took the bus to the local shop I worked at or at the local college I studied computers at, paid for the bus home and paid for my own meals. When I had money to burn, I even took Jo and Fran out to a meal and a few drinks. I even cleaned around the house occasionally since Fran was always busy out and Jo was one of those people who laughed at the idea of doing house duties unless tricked into doing it. I had honestly lost count the amount of times I told her that she promised she would dust around the house when she was drunk, despite her saying nothing of the sort; usually the polar opposite "No...NO! Thi-...This time I will not promise to do fackin' house work...Nope! I'm not doing that shit ever!". I chuckled to myself as I remembered how wasted she usually got. Never enough to let other people know she was a lesbian, but just enough to do all sorts of insane things. Well, at least until we got home, which then Fran and Jo were holding each other, tonguing each other. I would leave them to their business and go to my room since they didn't always do all of it in the privacy of their own bedroom...

Anyway, we all grew up together. Jo stayed with Fran but remained distanced. Jo left her job as a check-out clerk after she was taken to the side and asked to resign quietly. This was because Jo had accidentally told a co-worker she was close friends with that she had a girlfriend after Fran sent her flowers at work on St Valentines Day. The manager advised her that her homosexuality would only lead to conflicts between her and everyone else because it's making other people feel uncomfortable. Jo took the offer up. While Fran was busy at work at a fashion magazine trying to piece together a story, I had to hold Jo and comfort her as she told me she wished she wasn't gay. That it was just a out-right curse. I was telling that it was fine and gay rights groups are making a difference. Jo was screeching between sobs of tears that it wouldn't ever change and even when she finally dies, there'll still be homophobia. She could be 90 and homophobia would exist. I hushed her down and we decided we'd get drunk together. I was now working at a computer business that had only just started and I had a late shift (1pm to 6pm) the next day. We got absolutely hammered and came back late at midnight. Fran was still not home so we decided to stay up for an hour or two to wait for her. After our banter about the current TV show we were watching, I mumbled"so, if you were straight, do you know who you'd date?". She laughed in her "I'm so fucking wasted!" way before looking at me and smiling gently "I would of defiantly made you my husband by now if you weren't gay". I giggled, almost bursting into full out laughter. "...What?" a smile creeped up her face. I couldn't think of a response. It may have been the alcohol or it could be something else but I couldn't think of a good response. Finally, all I could say was "if I wasn't so gay and you weren't so, I doubt we'd be absolutely drunk and sitting on the sofa".

We looked at each other, her eyes were piercing yet drooping from the alcohol and tiredness. They were a dark green colour. Her long brown hair was in a mess with strands reaching out as though slightly charged with static electricity. Her face was in a plain expression with a twinge of...Something. Before I knew it, her lips were gently planted on mine. I felt shocked, but yet something in me didn't mind it. I wanted her as much as I could tell she wanted me, but yet something held me back. If I was staring at a guy, I would of pounced on him long ago, but this wasn't. This was a girl, this was my best friend since childhood. She shared her dolls and I shared my cars and trucks. I thought I knew love with the guys I had dated, but this was different, this transcended anything physical and touched something spiritual. I wanted to show her my love, but I couldn't bring myself to. I could see she wanted to do so as well, but we hated each other's body. After looking at each other for a long while I eventually told her, now completely sober "look, let's pretend this never happened and go to bed". She paused, and then said "okay" in a completely monotone emotionless voice that I had never heard before. It was like telling someone who had just had a mental breakdown and was now in a mental hospital "okay, it's time for breakfast...You coming for breakfast?" while you were trying to remember which meds to give her.

[Lost-Chances]

Part 2.

I went to bed and collapsed on my bed, my brain was just tired and likely swimming with alcohol. It was then I remembered I forgot to have a glass of water. Most of my body wanted to stay in bed, I was nearly asleep after all. However, a part of me knew that I would have a horrible headache if I didn't rise. I sighed loudly and crawled out of my bed. My feet shuffled their way around the floor and my hands opened the door in a clumsy fashion. My eyes looked towards the sofa, not there...And then her bedroom door...She had gone to bed. I kept walking slowly towards the kitchen, but I couldn't help but look at her bedroom door again. Something about it seemed...Hypnotising. I reached in the cupboard, got a glass and put it under the tap. My left hand gripped the cold steel and turned it, letting out a gush of cold water into the container. I turned it back off and downed the glass. I then went back to my bedroom and went straight to sleep.

Two days later, the phone rung. I usually don't answer the phone out of fears it's a telemarketer, but Jo was out and I sometimes get phone calls telling me to do an extra shift. I answered the phone with a nervous "...Hello?". After a pause, a familiar voice spoke back "Hello? Is this Charlie?". I was surprised, but my voice never sounded it "Anything you want Fran? You probably should talk to Jo, she lost her job and she's rea-...".
"About that...I may need you to collect my things together and tell Jo I'm breaking up with her. Tell her I'm sorry but work has taken over my life and I don't have time for relationships. I'll be over tomorrow during a lunch break or something, hopefully Jo wouldn't be home...I just don't have the time to deal with her, not to sound like she's a bad person though, it's just I've stopped feeling anything for her because I want to pursue my career so much...I'm even sleeping at a co-worker's house where we're spending every moment of time we're awake and not eating working...Anyway, I'll talk to you tomorrow Charlie, and thanks for being a good friend to me and Jo". The phone went onto a monotone beep before I could utter a word. I was just surprised. Fran had not supported Jo through her losing her job and losing her friends and now I needed to support her on my own through the break up with Fran. The thing that cut me the most was the "I'm even sleeping at a co-worker's house" part. She was so hung up on working, if that's the complete truth, that she couldn't even ring up to say hi to Jo or to visit. I felt annoyed at Fran, but yet I didn't have the guts to hold it against her. She was just a woman trying to get far in something she loved to do, just she loved working more than the feel of someone else to cuddle next to her.

Fran kept her word and I kept mine. Jo came back from her new job happy, I had to break the news about Fran breaking up with her. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, Jo took it well; more than well. She shrugged and said "oh well, she was never here anyway" before carrying on what she normally does after work: Put her bag and coat away, go to the fridge, crack open a beer and sit in front of the TV for some mindless fun. I stood there amazed, I expected more crying and more drinking, but yet Jo was apathetic. If she was, then I should be as well, but Fran still annoyed me by kicking Jo to the curb in such an emotionless way. Frances turned up the following day while me and Jo were at work, took everything I packed in the only boxes I could find and left, leaving her apartment key in a small envelope which where an address or name would normally be written, the words "I'm sorry" were in chicken scratch writing, just like Frances's typical writing style.

For the next two weeks, we were close friends still. We'd laugh at each other's jokes, we'd go to dinners with each other every Monday and we'd get drunk together. However, there was an unspoken sentence being conveyed through her eyes. After every laugh we'd have and every meal we ate together, I could see in her eyes there were something wrong. Very often when she was drunk, she'd cry her eyes out and we'd hold each other, but her mouth remained closed on why she had storms in her eyes, with and without the rain. I once confronted her about it, but she managed to push it to the side with a "I'm late for work" excuse; which was true. However, I never understood what was wrong and it confused me. I was going through the ladder at work, finally getting promoted to higher and higher positions until I owned the branch I worked at when the person who used to own it, Mr Cooke, went into retirement. I was happy about finally having a lot of money come in (which was fortunate since after Fran left we were always on the edge about money), but yet Jo remained on my mind. I loved her, as a soul mate. I just wish I could ask her out without having a feeling of dread that it'll fall apart since our bodies revolted each other. At least once a day, I'd imagine if I was straight and she was straight. How we'd be together, forever; not just as a couple with children but also as soul mates. I guess we are soul mates, but an invisible wall prevented us from being together, from holding each other's hand. The best we can do is put our hands against each other's on the glass and stare into each other's eyes. Soul mates, but never lovers.

I came home one night, lugging the cold leather briefcase in my right hand. It was windy outside which was shown by my medium length hair cut being a complete mess and the tie was hung over my shoulder. "Jo?" I asked, the place was unusually quiet since she usually played some music even when she was out. I walked to the kitchen, to see if she left a note in her usual position on the fridge. Instead, there was a A4 brown envelope on the table with my name written in her pretty little handwriting, complete with a small heart instead of a dot on the "i". I put my briefcase onto the table for now and slid out the non-sealed A4 brown envelope, two A4 pieces of paper falling out. She had written in black ink which was probably from one of our only working pens to just a little at the beginning of the second page, both on one side, which I found weird considering she was the type to write on both sides and if there was a small amount left to try to write really small at the bottom. It was also formally written, including a comma after "Dear Charlie" at the top and a space on the next line to sit just below the comma. After reading the first sentence, I slam the piece of paper to the table and start yelling "Jo! JO!", checking all the rooms.

Finally, I find her. Everything seems slow motion and black and white. My heart skips a beat. I step over to the bath-tub. I lift her body out the water and onto the wooden floor. I breath out and then in. I put my mouth on her lips for the second time ever. I breath in. I repeat this three times before pushing down on her chest fifteen times. Time begins to speed up again as I do it again, and again and again. Tears begin to stream from my eyes and it's harder to hold a breath in to breath into her. I finally rush to the only phone in the house and push down hard and fast 9 1 1. I managed to choke out through the tears what had happened, how she had drowned and I couldn't help her. I managed to tell the operator the address and then broke down sobbing despite demands to stay on the phone. Why...?

[Lost-Chances]

Part 3.

Staring out of my window now, I held the letter in my hand and was in the process of rereading it. Tears were beginning to form on my face but I read on, making sure tears don't fall onto the piece with the sleeve of my shirt. She talked about ever since she realised who she was, she had nothing but problems. She talked about how she would end up with women who were unsure who they actually were and ended up being straight and women who would basically make her run around after them. She talked about how everything she ever tried failed. Jo tried at jobs and failed when she they found out who she was, she lost friends who found out she was a lesbian and she lost her parents who didn't want to know her after she brought her girlfriend home for dinner once and told them how she felt for her love of her life at the time.

The final straw was me.

My hands shook before I quickly placed the note away just in time for me to be able to cry my eyes out. I cried until my nose and eyes hurt. Even though it has been over ten years, it still hurt to read what I did. I had fallen for her, and she fell for me as well. It destroyed her to know that her one true love was a man, a gay man. Someone who she couldn't have partly because she was gay herself. I was the forbidden fruit that she wanted to taste. I was the figure behind the window who she couldn't hug or be with. I was the final push to prove there was no point living as long you were gay. Deep down in my soul, I agreed. I wish I could have been with her but something in me wanted to prevent me from being truly happy. I did try to kill myself once or twice, tasting the steel of the barrel but too scared to let it unleash it's fire. It's like my body hates me and wanted me to suffer in the most tormenting way, by dangling something I can never have in front of my face and no matter how much I could scream, I'd never receive it. At least I'll be able to meet her in the after-life, since we are soul-mates and they never disconnect from each other or truly die; just pass on.

[InsertFunnyUserName]

The way that you develop the characters is nicely done. The story is just long enough so that the reader gets connected to the characters, but not so long that it seems like its being dragged out. You created people that the reader can empathize with so that the ending has its full impact.

The thing about the pacing that I didn't like was how much backstory was crammed into the beginning. It seemed like you're were giving us too much information all at once and too soon. Consider starting later on in the storyline and introducing the protagonist's childhood/home life in pieces as you go along, preferably inferring it.

Speaking of inferences, a lot of your sentences seemed to present the information, actions, descriptions, etc in ways that were very straightforward. That's okay some of the time, but I think that you could be more subtle with the way that you put forth ideas, showing instead of telling. Infer actions instead of explicitly saying them.

A small detail was that at times, you had some run-on sentences and awkward phrasing, so be on the lookout for that.

Other than that, I have no complaints. I'm fond of the ending; I feel as though it definitely made its point. You also pulled off the love story in a unique way that kept my interest.

Hush, it's okay; dry your eyes. :P

[Lost-Chances]

At 8/27/10 11:08 PM, InsertFunnyUserName wrote: The way that you develop the characters is nicely done. The story is just long enough so that the reader gets connected to the characters, but not so long that it seems like its being dragged out. You created people that the reader can empathize with so that the ending has its full impact.

Thanks. I wish I could say it was completely intentional, but it really wasn't. Just something felt like there was more to say. Like, it just felt right to have Jo to be dumped and it felt just right to have the main character reflecting upon it years later. I think it was really a case of "the story wrote it's self".

The thing about the pacing that I didn't like was how much backstory was crammed into the beginning. It seemed like you're were giving us too much information all at once and too soon. Consider starting later on in the storyline and introducing the protagonist's childhood/home life in pieces as you go along, preferably inferring it.

I probably should of to be fair. I thought it worked but I guess it didn't.

Speaking of inferences, a lot of your sentences seemed to present the information, actions, descriptions, etc in ways that were very straightforward. That's okay some of the time, but I think that you could be more subtle with the way that you put forth ideas, showing instead of telling. Infer actions instead of explicitly saying them.

I actually didn't notice that at all, I thought I did at least mostly infer things but I guess I didn't.

A small detail was that at times, you had some run-on sentences and awkward phrasing, so be on the lookout for that.

Eh, bad habits.

Other than that, I have no complaints. I'm fond of the ending; I feel as though it definitely made its point. You also pulled off the love story in a unique way that kept my interest.

Surprisingly, it was unintentional. I know I'm not particularly good at love stories so I just wanted to portray a feeling of being unable to touch what you want to hold close due to an unseen force. I'm glad it was pulled off though.

Hush, it's okay; dry your eyes. :P

Haha, someone else who read this story apparently nearly cried. So I felt good about posting this.

[Scarface]

Haha, I got so into the story, I thought 'what an asshole' when I saw your laughing icon at the top of the thread, but then I remembered that this was only a story.