March 2010
Boston, MA, USA

Ours is a forbidden love.

Traditional Catholicism isn't a cruel faith, I suppose. It's one that wants to protect its people from unnecessary pain and anguish. Perhaps the Church is right. Sylvia and I should never have kissed. Never should have dated.

Not even once.

Much less for three years.

We certainly shouldn't have shared such an extreme level of intimacy. Let's just say we're both living in grave mortal sin, according to her faith at least, yet we're unable to confess because we feel no guilt. No shame. And no desire to abstain.

At least I've felt no guilt.

Now I'm not so sure about Sylvia. Part of me wonders if this is the real reason why she's pulling away. Maybe it has nothing to do with her upcoming fellowship in Germany at all.

Does she think I'm a bad influence on her soul?

In two months, we'll both graduate and go our separate ways. She's flying to Europe while I stay here, and soon we'll have to say goodbye.

Possibly forever.

Screw that crap! I can't let her go without a fight!

There is no one but Sylvia in my heart. And there never will be. This I know as surely as I know my own name. She's my muse. My little raven.

I need to prove my true honor, loyalty, and commitment to her. Even if she says no. Even if she casts me aside. They say you should never ask a woman to marry you unless you're sure she'll say yes. That's wise.

But fuck wisdom!

Because I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try.

Some people might argue twenty-three is too early to settle down, but I disagree. With several job offers under my belt and only weeks until graduation, I'd like to embark on the next phase of our lives together. Even if we have to spend the first nine months apart.

What's a few months in the scheme of things?

Because Sylvia loves creativity more than materialism, I have decided to propose to her in the Museum of Fine Art in Boston. I'm freaking shaking while I pay for our tickets. Nervous as we pass dozens of paintings.

Until we finally reach the Impressionists.

Our favorite art movement.

Once we reach the famous Renoir painting, Dance at Bougival, I regard it with the same fascination as always. Sylvia stands beside me, her hand in mine. This art is pure romance. Bursting at the seams with sensual emotion as a couple dances in the countryside.

The perfect way for me to tell her how I feel. By now I know her well enough to know she'll understand.

Before this glorious work of art, I take both of her hands in mine. And I get down on one knee.

"I couldn't be more certain that you are the true love of my life," I say with my full conviction. "After graduation, I would like us to stand side by side as true equals and start a life together."

Sylvia blanches. But I can't stop now. Spring break is my last chance before we start studying for finals. Graduate. And then say goodbye.

Instead of a ring, I reach into my backpack and take out a clothbound sketchbook with a Rubik's cube embossed on the cover. It's our story. Drawn in pictures from beginning to end.

Hopefully not the end, but I can't guarantee it.

I've put my heart and soul into this work. Not to mention dozens of hours. Over the past three years, anytime we weren't together and I wasn't working I'd draw in secret so it would remain a surprise on this special day.

Though she despises jewelry, she'll love this.

If this won't convince her of my love, nothing will.

"You're going to Germany for nine months," I say in a firm tone. "But I've done my research and asked a priest. We can stay engaged a year, or longer, if need be as long as we remain committed and chaste."

When Sylvia opens the sketchbook and sees what I've made for her, she draws a ragged breath. Even though a lot of it is in metaphor, she understands. Of course she does. We were made for one another.

Sylvia begins to tear up silently.

Hopefully that's a good sign-like it was before.

"That won't be a problem for me," I say. "I promise to stay true to you no matter what."

She covers her lips with her hand when she flips to the final page, where I'm on bended knee before her. But I've left her speech bubble blank.

"I pledge my heart, my mind, and my life to you, if you'll accept me."

Only then do I dare to meet her beautiful yet forlorn hazel gaze.

"Sylvia Evangeline O'Shea, will you marry me?"

When she bites her lower lip, I fear the worst.

No...no! Please...don't!

She pulls back with a concerned expression. "Ian, this is the most beautiful, thoughtful, heartfelt gift-proposal-anything that anyone has ever done."

It feels like she's reached into my chest and squeezed my heart in a vice. "But...?"

"Like I told you the first day we met." She turns her face from me, unable to look me in the eye. "If I find a job or a study program, I'm not coming back."

My heart shrivels as I rise to my full height. Still, I hold her hand. "That was when you didn't have anything keeping you here. Now you do. I've given this a lot of thought, and I choose you."

"This is a once in a lifetime chance to make something of myself!"

"You can do it." I squeeze her hand, but it feels like she's slipping away, like sand through a sieve. "Teach in Germany and come back to me."

"I'm going to try to stay a second year."

"Then I'll wait two years!" I seek her gaze. "Sylvia, I love you. There is no one else for me. There has never been anyone else. And there never will be."

She gazes up wistfully into my eyes. "If only you could come with me!"

"But my life is here," I insist. "I can't offer you anything there. It'd be my honor and my joy to take care of you. To live my life with you. To fulfill your dreams. But I don't have the right to stay there, much less work there."

Sylvia shakes her head. "It isn't fair to you."

"What isn't?" I cup her face gently. "What isn't fair?"

"To promise you my heart and my loyalty in the full knowledge that I will do whatever it takes to stay there."

Ice drips down my spine and my hand drops. "Whatever it takes?"

"Yes..."

Astonished, I draw back from her. "Even if it means a life without me?"

"Yes."

Every muscle tenses until my body begins to shake. Like it's prepping to fight a fucking lion in the Colosseum even though all I'm doing is having a normal conversation. The hell is wrong with me?

Jesus, give me strength.

Where there was fire in Sylvia's gaze, now there is only ice. Though I know her moods can shift with the tide when it comes to the little things in life, she never wavers when it comes to her dreams. To the things and the people who matter to her, she is both steadfast and true.

If only I were her dream.

But it's becoming clear to me that I never was.

"If we'd met at another time or in another place," she says, "I'm sure you would be the man for me. The true love of my life. But now isn't that time."

"You don't even know if you'll be able to stay," I ask, incredulous, "and you want to throw it all away?"

"I won't lead you on and make a promise I can't keep. It goes against everything I believe," she says in a firm tone. "It's a sin. And it's cruel. As wonderful as it is, I can't accept your proposal, sorry."

Keep it together, damn you!

Stay calm!

"I need to do this, Ian."

"I know you do, and I support you." Sylvia told me from the very start how it would end, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. "At least keep this book to remember us."

Sylvia whispers her thanks before holding it close to her heart and pressing her cheek against the edge. As though the sketchbook were me. In some ways, it is, and I think she intuitively knows it.

If she feels so strongly, why is she leaving?

"One day," I add, "if you miss home--if you miss us--come back to me."

"I would never ask you to wait for me," she murmurs, almost to herself.

"You're not asking." My body is shaking on the inside and it's taking all my strength to stay calm. "I'm letting you know that even if we aren't together, I care about you."

The way she gazes up at me with that look of innocence and vulnerability breaks my heart. Why doesn't she understand? Why won't she listen?

Sylvia almost launches herself at me, kissing me with a wild, passionate fury. But it doesn't come from desire. It's a good-bye. And it fucking hurts.

"I love you, Ian. And I probably always will."

"Please, Sylvia...take some time to think it over."

She gazes at me now, almost pleading. "If I don't take this chance to achieve my dreams, I'll never rest."

"I know."

"It kept me alive when I was a kid." Her tone is as painful as it is determined. "It has sustained me and fueled me through my entire academic career. I need to prove to myself that I can live there."

My heart aches, but this isn't about me. It's about a lifelong pledge a little girl made to herself to visit the castles she fled to in her mind's eye while her mother raged and her father escaped into alcohol. While she felt hungry. While she almost died in the hospital.

"Sylvia, listen to me." Exhaling a deep breath, I kiss her forehead. "You don't have to give up your dreams for me. Ever."

"Please don't ask me to stay, Ian." She bites her bottom lip. "Please let me go so that I'm free to lead the life the Holy Spirit has called me to lead."

She wraps her arms around me like I'm her only anchor in a tumultuous sea. Though I hold her close, it feels like she's already gone. And she's right. She made her intentions clear to me from the very first day we met.

Now it's my responsibility to let her go.

"Is that what you need me to do?" I ask. "In order to be happy?"

Sylvia nods and buries herself against my chest.

God, give me the strength to do this.

"Okay...it's okay." I kiss her crown. "Go to Germany. You're officially free to make any choices you wish."

It's like I've thrown my heart into a bucket of glass shards, smashed it with a hammer, and dumped it into a vat of rubbing alcohol to drown.

She needs her freedom.

You must let her go.

"Thank you, Ian." She tears up silently, whether from relief or sadness, I don't know. "I'm so sorry I hurt you. I should have been strong. We never should have dated knowing this is how it would end. I've sinned against you. The rules exist for a reason, and I didn't listen. Please forgive me."

"I regret nothing," I say in a firm tone. "I love you, Sylvia. And I always will."

"Can we stay friends?" she asks.

"Yes..." My heart feels numb as I back away. "If you decide to return to this country, I will accept you again with open arms. You know that, right?"

She nods.

After one final kiss on her forehead, I leave the museum feeling more empty than when my parents died. Once again, I'm completely alone.

Only one thing sustains my hope. When I look back one final time, Sylvia meets my gaze, still pressing my sketchbook against her chest.

___

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Achievement unlocked: 8,000 words!