(Scene: fade in, ambulance interior, patients point of view, blinking at the person leaning over them)
"I'm Sorry."
It's the last thing he remembers saying as his world went black with the shrill wail of the siren fading from his ears and the Ambulance technician reassuring him things would be alright...
Ambulance tech (to Greg) "...it's O.K., we're gonna get you to a hospital, just hang on..."
(To driver): (urgently tentative) "Step on it... he don't look good... " (fade out)
I watched in stunned horror that day. So utterly helpless, silent like a fool That
day in the park when a part of my past, my world, my life, crumbled to the ground. I
wanted to go, to rush over to help, to be there. But I couldn't. My feet would not let me.
My heart held me back. I watched in silence, in pain, as the man I had once loved, and
still loved, crumpled to the ground at feet of the woman he loved, and took for a wife. I
wanted to go, to rush over and tell him what was in my heart, what he meant to me. I
wanted to beg his forgiveness, for the past, the pain. To simply say, I'm sorry.
Greg and I met one fall day at a small county fair in a quaint out-of-the-way town.
He wasn't that much older than I and, surprisingly, we had grown up only blocks from
each other. So close to each other and yet, not even knowing of the others existence.
Until that day. Over the next dozen or so months our friendship grew. Our likes and
dislikes, friends and families all became part of each others life. We grew ever so closer
with each passing season. Friendship to fondness, fondness to affection, affection to
love. Our secrets, thoughts, hopes, dreams and desires, all shared willingly. Shared out
of respect and love for one another.
We often took little trips to the country, just for fun. Going to small town fairs,
picnics in the park, moonlit walks on the beach. Sometimes just for the day, sometimes
the weekend. One weekend we went out for a drive in the country, late in winter, and
ended up in a snow storm. We were stuck in a quiet, cold motel, so close and yet so far
from home. We made the best of it though, and we were together. Together as friends,
friends so in love that soon we became more, and it was wonderful. He was so gentle, so
romantic, when we were together, at home or away. He even went as far as having a heart
of roses laid out on the bed in our motel room one night while we were out for an evening
nightcap. Always the little things, always the sweet romantic.
I loved him, I truly did. And I still do. How could I ever deceive him as I did.
How could I tell him of my past, the parts I kept hidden, never to share with any one. Not
even now, not even with the one man who loves me as deeply as I love him. I just don't
know.