Fiction: Veronica

by Michelle Lasley

Michelle Lasley is a mother, wife in Pacific Northwest learning to balance green dreams with budget realities.

May 18, 2011

The UN headquarters in New York, viewed from t...

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She giggled at the slightly inappropriate joke. Her mouth just opened and the words flowed out. She had just met him.

“I am sorry,” Veronica apologized, “It’s just that you remind me of someone, so there is this supposed familiarity that we haven’t quite, well, earned.”

“You remind me of someone too,” he solemnly responded

And, that’s where they left it.

On the train ride home, Veronica thought about this supposed familiarity, this connection. It wasn’t many people with whom she shared those instant connections. In fact, she could tick off on one hand the number of people with whom she’d had a similar connection. Her late husband wasn’t among them. With her husband, she had felt comfortable and safe, which is what she needed coming  off some very intense emotional roller coaster relationships. They had a great marriage together, after they earned it, together. But, they never had that instant connection.

She enjoyed that instant spark. When you meet someone and for whatever reason the cosmos agree that you already know them. Those emotional relationships of her early 20s helped diminish her then long held belief in soul-mates, but these connections rekindled that belief fire. If soul-mates exist, they must look something like this. Is this why people believe in past lives?

Veronica was older than her 20s now, so she also knew that instant fire could die out, and quickly. It’s as if it’s a guise, when you get along so well at first, you want it to continue. And, then, the fire starts to wain and you have to begin to earn the relationship. Others she knew, affected by this flame, sought flame after flame, which is one contributing factor to her disbelief in soul-mates. Her inner core preferred lasting, monogamous relationships, not this fleeting from fire to fire searching for the next best connection. She appreciated the flame for what it was, a remembrance of something familiar, no matter how it came about. When it was over, she cried a few tears, but that was all. The memory of her late husband and the relationship they had together was more than enough to fill any lost familiar voids.

The train stopped. Three stations from hers. Off to the next thing, so she tried to switch her brain train onto a different track, rather than thinking about these fleeting feelings. She still had a lot of work to do with her organization to get this event off the ground. There had been so much disagreement with how to best celebrate humanity’s paradigm shift, she was simply elated that they had the go ahead to forge this next road. They were going to construct a monolith that would house the new United Nations building. Her organization dealt with the aesthetic aspects in addition to being a driving force getting the project off the ground.

But that fire. Maybe the lesson learned was how to best utilize it in the circumstances they were in, now. Maybe there was a reason… She looked at his business card. Billy Hamm, architect. She would contact him tomorrow. Her view returned to the window where let her brain wander through the last two stops until hers arrived.

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