The human heart is a terrifying thing.  Throughout history, Greek, Egyptian, Babylonian, Chinese, and other cultures have asserted that the heart is the primary organ responsible for influencing and directing our emotions and our decision-making ability.  The heart has been credited for great works of art, and blamed for horrible tragedies.  People have lived, loved, created, and destroyed all in the name of a hearts desire.  Hearts have built and dismantled Empires, yet we are taught that the organ is a mere ten ounces that is controlled by the brain, pumping blood and maintaining circulation until we die, and oftentimes that is a very safe and sound way to view it.  There’s one thing that has not, and seemingly cannot be explained about the heart.  And that is that it beats before brain function is ever detected.  It’s a terrifying thing, indeed.

“There’s a line.” She said in a deadpan voice.

“There can’t be,” he replied.

She stood from her squatted position and threw the urine covered stick at him.  “There is a FUCKING line!”  And that is when everything changed for Lilly and Jack.

There are so many different types of love that is nearly impossible to ever compare one relationship with another, or two peoples experiences in the same relationship even.  Individual experience is the key to everything.

They had been together for three years.  Lilly was twenty, and in those three years quite a lot had happened to solidify their relationship.  Her father’s death had cemented Jack’s roll in her family.  Somehow tragedy binds people more tightly together.  They’d begun to build a life together and were making plans for where their lives would take them.  She was going to Chicago to attend Columbia and pursue a Journalism career, he was currently working for the phone company and would transfer to a position in Illinois so that they could stay together.  After she graduated he would follow her wherever she went because as long as they were together everything would be fine.  They loved each other, and it was an adult love, a real love, a true love, and Lilly reveled in it. She liked herself in that role.  Lilly rarely liked herself much, so she adored Jack for giving her that sense of peace.  She didn’t question herself with him.  Jack was brave and strong and smart and he made her feel safe enough to be herself.  It was a true love that came not from a place of “how do you make me feel,” but rather “I want you to be happy.”  It was John Hughes-esque, and it was far too short lived.

They didn’t talk about the stick at first.  He made grilled cheese sandwiches while she took a shower and when they sat down at the card table with folding chairs that sat in the corner of the kitchen in the run down apartment they shared in Gainesville, the silence was deafening.

“It could be wrong,” he began “they’re sometimes wrong.”

Lilly pushed her plate away.

“Three tests are wrong.  Three. I don’t think so.”

“But you’re on the pill.”

“Why, yes, I am.”  She stood from the table and plopped herself on the couch in front of the weight bench that doubled for a TV stand.  “You’re late,” she said looking at the clock.  “You need to go.”  He didn’t kiss her on the forehead on the way out the door.

“I’m not ready for this, we’re not ready for this.  I don’t want this.”  He said, and closed the door behind him, effectively ending the conversation and closing the door on their relationship as well.

Six months later, Lilly met her future husband in a pool hall at the Student Union on Florida States campus.  He was tall, lean, and had piercing blue eyes.  His eyes, though a contributing factor were not what attracted Lilly to him, however.  His pool stance was.  The way he held his cue, the way he rounded the table, the way he tapped his pinky three times in quick succession when he got down to make a shot.  His shooting motion was exactly like her fathers.

A year later Jack married a woman with a three-year old child.  He opted for the ready-made family.

They never spoke again, and they never will.  Some things really are too much.

I have one regret in my life.  One.  And it’s not walking into the Union that day.  For that I consider myself exceedingly lucky.