Romance and Cynicism

Fitzgerald Grant III is a hopeless romantic. A true believer in love at first sight, electricfying touches, butterflies in the stomach and the can't eat or sleep without you type of love. He wants the house with the white picket fence, three car garage, four kids and a loving wife; has so since he was a child growing up in a small town in North Carolina. His parents had it and he wants nothing less.

Wanting to see the world before attending college, Fitz enlisted in the navy straight out of high school. Two tours of duty later, he's now twenty-four, in his sophomore year at Harvard and single. Fitz hasn't been on a date in over a year and he's beginning to wonder whether life changing, earth moving, never be the same, true love can only be found in a small town.

One day while studying in the library a young woman sits across from him. To say Fitz is instantly smitten with the dark-haired beauty would be the mother of all understatements. Crowned with curly tendrils, pouty lips, doe eyes and flawless skin, the mystery woman is poetry personified. He's never dated an African American woman, not because of prejudice, it's just he's never come across one that sparked his interest; just like he's never come across a red head, an Asian or half a dozen other female types who managed to catch his attention. Yet here he sits thunderstruck by a beautiful caramel skinned enchantress. Does her voice match her beauty? He has to engage her in conversation and find out if the voice is as captivating as the face.

Clearing his throat, he asks a question he knows she'll say no to. "Excuse me aren't you in my philosophy 101 class with Professor Martin?" He knows she's not in the class, there are only twelve students all white, she'd be hard to miss.

Olivia looks at him as if he's asked the dumbest question she's ever heard. She concludes he's either most unobservant person on the planet or he's trying to start a conversation for some reason.

"Uh that would be a no. I'm not into philosophy. It tends to be a little too esoteric for me". Yes he high fives in his mind. Her voice is melodic, a tuning fork setting the pitch of his heart. He's a goner.

"Esoteric, philosophy is the study of knowledge, reality, existence itself".

Rolling her eyes, "Blah, blah-blah, blah-blah,blah-blah, I know what philosophy is the study of- thinking, reason, logic, thought and ethics.

"So what, you find Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and all the great thinkers out of touch with reality".

"I didn't say that. Their writings and observations have merit and widespread application. However, most modern philosophical musing rehashes what has already been said and understood. All you need to know in life are three truths". Olivia waves three fingers in the air.

"And what are the three truths?" Fitz asks with genuine curiosity.

"1. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. 2. Money cannot happiness. 3. Love is for suckers".

"You really believe that about love?"

"Absolutely, it's embroidered on my hand towels and embossed on my personal stationary".

"If love is for suckers? Does that include the love of a parent for a child? A child for a parent? A husband for his wife and vice versa? Love among friends?"

"Yep. Parents pour incredible amounts of love and effort into their offspring only at the end of the day to be treated like an ATM and only spoken to on Mother's Day or Father's Day, or maybe their birthday. Then the minute they forget to flush the toilet, junior is ready to throw them into a nursing home. Their kids can't wait to divvy up their assets and spend the money on some frivolous self-indulgence".

"Really?" Fitz leans back in his chair completely surprised by his mystery woman's cynicism.

"Husbands cheat, that's why half of all the marriages end divorce. The other half that stay married are just to ornery to cut their losses and move on. They go bed every night hoping their significant other will be hit by car o, have a heart attack. If they have good insurance they pray their spouse will be mugged or have a stroke and languish in a coma for the same number of years they've had to pretend being interested in what their insufferable other half had to say".

"Whoa, how old are you and what happened to you to make you so cynical?"

"Not that it's any of your business, I'm twenty and the product of a messy divorce. I'm talking knock out, drag out, leave no stone unturned, nuclear winter dissolution. From age seven to eighteen I never slept in the same bed for more than three days at a time. My repeated requests to go to boarding school were summarily dismissed because both my parents were determined to make the other spend quality time with me. I've had to listen to 1469 angry phone calls, witness 739 public arguments and to sit through 1534 silent dinners, all in the name of a parent's love".

"Now that you've shared your background and beliefs with me can I at least know your name?"

"Why? Have you not listened to a word I've said? Do I strike you as the let's be friends type? Have I given you any indication I want to get to know you?"

"Okay fair enough. You've been quite straightforward so allow me to do the same".

"I believe love is what makes life bearable. Sharing your life with someone, building a family together, supporting each other is what holds a society together. I believe in love at first sight and that marriage between people who truly know what it is to love can last a lifetime. Not all husbands cheat and not all children are opportunistic parasites counting the days till their parent's demise. There are too many examples of the power and benefits of love in daily life to be ignored. Your supposition is flawed and derived from what appears to be limited personal experience rather than hard statistical facts. Your argument assumes only two possible outcomes for your truths; awful or even worse".

"On the contrary, my facts on divorce and male commitment are unbiased, based on objective research. Are you seriously going to sit there and assert commonly available and accepted statistical data is somehow inherently deficient or subjectively skewed in some way?"

"No, I believe you, yet to be identified beautiful woman, don't believe a word of what you just said and deep down are a hopeless romantic".

"What in this conversation leads you to believe I'm the opposite of who I profess to be?"

"You really want to know?" Olivia seats back in her chair, crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head to the side.

"Yes really. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know".

"Well I'll start with your clothes, very bohemian, colorful and fun loving. A dark brooding person who doesn't like to be with people would never wear such an attention grabbing outfit. Then there's your hair, soft curls caressing your face pinned at the top with a fresh flower. A flower you probably picked yourself on the way to class this morning. Next there's your notebook. It's covered with heart and flower doodles. And your textbook is another dead give-away, Poetry and Romance Literature Through the Ages. Lastly, I noted when you were reading a passage in the book you had the most beautiful smile on your face. The words in the book obviously spoke to you, touched your heart".

Olivia just stares at for a minute or time. Surprisingly Fitz isn't intimidated and stares back at her with the same intensity.

"So, am I on point or totally off base?" Fitz gives Olivia a smug grin.

"Very astute Mr.?" Slowly the corners of Olivia's mouth turn up giving way to an infectious ear to ear smile.

"Grant, Fitz Grant".

"Very astute Fitz, I agree with everything you said. I'm Olivia, Olivia Pope".

Olivia extends her hand for Fitz to shake. He takes her hand and instead of shaking it, kisses it gently. The moment they touch a feeling of calm and peace envelopes them. Looking into each other's eyes, both can see the marriage, kids and a home filled with laughter and love.

"So, Olivia, what's with the cynic act?"

"Keeps the riffraff away and my dance card free for my true love".

"Is your story about being caught between warring divorced parents true?"

"Nope, phony as a three dollar bill. My parents have been together since the second grade. My dad shared a box of Cracker Jacks with my mom on the first day of school and the prize was a ring. He asked her to marry him then and there. She still has the ring".

"What about you Mr. Grant? What's your story?"

"My father fell in love with my mother at a bus stop on a rainy day. He was going to the hospital to visit his mother who had had a bunion removed and my mom was on her to the same hospital to volunteer as a candy stripe. A strong wind inverted my mom's umbrella and my dad tried to help her fix it. They almost had the darn thing working when a car suddenly hit a rain filled pothole in front of the bus stop splashing dirty water everywhere and drenching them from head to toe. Looking like something the cat dragged in, all they could do was laugh at the absurdity of their situation. By the time they reached the hospital they were hopelessly in love with one another. Two years later they married. That was forty-two years ago and they're still together".

"Impressive, any brothers or sisters?"

"Two brothers, two sisters, I'm the second youngest. You?"

"Three sisters, two brothers. I'm the youngest. My parents have been married thirty-eight years?"

"I think our backgrounds bode well for our future together".

"I don't know", Olivia singsongs. Our story kinda sucks. "We met in the library…yawn. What kind of love story is that to tell to our kids?"

"Still harboring a hint of cynicism Olivia. Okay, marry me today Olivia Pope. Let's get started on our fifty years together".

"See, now you're talking Mr. Grant, she grins. But my answer is no.

"What?" Fitz is confused. He thought they connected and were in sync.

"No, not today, but keep asking, you'll eventually wear me down. Probably by the end of the week".

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, are you? We need top our parent's stories. We can't compete with Love and a Box of Cracker Jacks or A Bus Stop, An umbrella, and a Giant Puddle".

"I see your point, so what's our story title? Library Talk and a Week of Proposals?"

"Hey, I kind of like that but no, I was thinking more along the lines of Romance and Cynicism".

"Romance and Cynicism; works for me". Fitz stands to his feet extending his arm to Olivia. She gathers her books, tosses her backpack over her shoulder and hooks her free arm around Fitz's.

"Shall we future Mrs. Grant".

"Yes, we shall Mr. Grant".

They leave the library arm in arm with a vision of their future together and hearts brimming with hope and excitement. True to their love story, they marry at the end of the week and share a life full of love, laughter and family.

AN – Hope you enjoyed this little one shot. Have great week.