Time to revisit this story!!! Enjoy, and review if you have the time!
Natalie
pmcfan- While I respect and appreciate and somewhat agree with your opinion on my characterization of Romano, I would just like to clarify why I am writing Romano like this for this story: For how many years was Romano in love with Lizzie? For how many seasons did he have strong feelings for her? And how many times did he come out and blatantly say he loved her? That is the Romano about which I am writing. : )
Just clarifying! : ) Thank you, again!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was a sunny day in September when my world shattered, leaving me alone in the universe. That is the very irony that is me—such utter contradiction on so many varying levels.
I was transformed by love, changed completely from the man that I once was. I was pulled, miraculously, from the despair in which I had wallowed for so long. I had struggled for what seemed like eternity, and one day, everything changed. I can't explain it, other than to say that it was magical, the kind of feeling that everyone will try to describe, but will inevitably fail at.
My heart had never felt so full, so alive, so promising. I had never felt so cared for, so needed, and I had never in my life felt so wanted. The entire experience was something new altogether. No one had ever wanted me before, I mean, not really. I'd never experienced that kind of love, that kind of trust, and that kind of happiness.
Perhaps I should start at the beginning: the date is not important. We met at work, of course, the place where I once spent most of my time. I had admired her from afar for quite some time, enamored of her in every way.
She had that light about her, that certain thing that draws souls to her. She couldn't help it, and I couldn't help falling for her, no matter how hard I tried. Her eyes seemed to comfort the rage I once held inside of me, though she knew nothing of the sort.
She didn't know what a tortured soul I had once been, she didn't know what a mess of a man I had been—but somehow, she did know. She knew my armor was thick, but that my skin was thin—she knew, and that is why I fell in love with her.
I'd never been seen as a human being before, and this was the first time anyone had ever tried to understand me. Of course, I pushed her away, pretended I didn't care—but I did. Deep down I cared so much for her that it hurt me when I would leave her presence without saying the words "I love you." I might not seem like a man of such capability, but I promise you I am...was. With her I was everything I knew I could be: everything I'd ever wanted to be.
And even all of that isn't enough to describe what I felt, just how much I felt for this incredibly amazing woman.
She didn't change me altogether, I won't pretend that she did, but she did bring the real me, the me I'd kept hidden for so long to the surface—and she made me feel like I never had before.
We danced around the issue for years, or rather, I danced and she watched amusedly as I tried to tap-dance around my true feelings, pretending she wasn't more to me than a friend. But, that unfortunately is my style.
I will never forget the day it happened. I couldn't forget even if I tried with all of my might. It was a normal day, jam-packed with business that needed to be attended to. She came into the surgical lounge, looking for me. She told me she had found a man, some architect or something, and that she was considering marriage. I was stunned, completely and utterly amazed. I just stood there; I couldn't believe what I had heard. She asked for my blessing, and I cleared my throat and uttered the words "I'm happy for you." I wasn't. Of course I wasn't. But I couldn't work up the nerve to tell her.
Two days, 7 hours, and 26 minutes went by before I decided to tell her how I felt for her, that she couldn't marry this Jim or Jack fellow. And it was exactly 18 minutes after that that I chickened out.
I couldn't do it. God help me, I couldn't do it.
She seemed so happy, and who the hell was I to try to take that away from her. I was no one, just an admirer from afar. So I suffered in silence, watching as she planned the wedding and invited coworkers to the "happiest day of her life." And the strange thing is, I was happy for her. Love does that to you. I couldn't have been happier for her, but I was completely miserable for myself.
I even attended the wedding, blender in tow and everything. Seeing her up there, so beautiful, so tender and loving made me happy. Until I watched her say "I do" to another man.: that was the worst day of my life that far. I even considered standing up and objecting like they do in the movies when the preacher asks for objections.
I imagined that I would say "I object because I love this woman more than anything on the planet, more than anyone ever could" and she, of course would say she loved me too, and then everyone would begin to clap, even the newly single groom.
I know you don't believe me, but I told you, I am a dreamer.
But, I forever held my peace.
I held my peace as she slipped the band on his finger with a beautiful smile on her face.
I held my peace as he placed a gorgeous wedding ring on her finger, looking deeply into her eyes.
I held my peace as they gazed into each other's eyes.
I held my peace as she said "I do."
I held my peace as the preacher pronounced them "man and wife."
I held my peace as the preacher announced that Jim Bennett may "kiss the bride."
I held my peace as he lifted her veil and touched her chin.
I held my peace as their lips met, sealing their bond.
I held my peace as the reception began, as they danced together.
I held my peace when she danced with me.
I held my peace as the reception came to a close.
I held my peace as we threw rice at them as they ran towards the limo.
I held my peace as I watched the limo drive away with the love of my life and a sign that read "Just married."
God help me, I held my peace.
Holding my peace nearly killed me, as I wanted so much to shout to the world that I loved her, that I would treat her better than he ever could, that I could make her feel so much more special than he could, that I could be a better man than he could.
But I played my part—the one of a friend, and I held my peace everyday that I saw her thereafter. When she would come to me after miniscule fights, seeking comfort, I would hold her and tell her that things were going to be okay; I swallowed all of my pride and told her that they were meant to be together and that things would work out because they had to.
I lied to her, but it was in the name of love, and in the name of friendship. They weren't meant to be together. I knew it all along, because a love like I felt doesn't just melt away, it's predestined, and I had felt things for her that I never even knew I was capable of feeling.
She would smile, teary-eyed, and thank me for being there, thank me for being such a wonderful friend, and I would accept her thanks, and I was thankful for every moment I was able to have her in my life in any way, shape or form.
And I lay in bed at night pretending that she was next to me, pretending it was me up on that altar instead of Jim Bennett. Pretending that she was my wife, my love, pretending that she loved me and not him.
I knew she didn't—but I couldn't help it. I was happy for her, but still, miserable for me. And it's okay that I pretended, because it got me through the days...
Through all of the days that I held my peace and through all of the nights that I would wish I didn't have to.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
TBC.
Sorry it's rather short, more to come soon, I hope!
Hope you enjoyed!
Natalie
