His Wounded Light by Christine Brae Page B

but its meaning is priceless and invaluable. I remember the anniversary card that came with this gift, saying something about time standing still whenever she was with me. Of course today, we know that was bullshit. Time didn’t stand still. It actually left me way behind—it ran away without me and left me in its dust.
    Senior year in college was the year I threw it all away—the love of a beautiful girl who wanted no one in the world but me. In retrospect, I don’t think I ever really got her back after that. She tried to come back to me, but her heart already belonged to someone else.
    “She may be okay with all this now, but one day she’s going to tire of waiting around for you,” my father told me one night as I was leaving to attend another party without her.
    “Pa, she’ll just get bored at this Student Council get together. She said she would rather hang out with her sisters.”
    “Of course she would. You would too, if your boyfriend stuck you with strangers every weekend. You’re taking her for granted, Jesse. And I’m afraid that you’re going to live to regret it. Isabel is hanging on to you now by choice. One day, she’ll realize that she deserves much more.”
    I left the house defensive and angry that night. I felt that he was taking sides with her while at the same time instilling too much pressure on me to succeed. I can’t be the person you expect me to be if I spend my time taking care of my girlfriend instead of running for the biggest election of my life. Now can I?
    ***

 
     
    “The hottest love has the coldest end.”
    —Socrates
     
     
    I remember thinking to myself, “this is getting old.” Another Saturday night, another party. This time it’s a huge-ass wedding celebration for two of my friends from school. Dinner had just ended and people were already starting to move on to the dance floor. I didn’t have a date that night. Ryan and I decided to stop by a bar to meet some friends after we had some free chow— hence, no need for dates. The poor guy was trying to keep me busy, knowing that I was still in flux over what had happened between me and my girlfriend. My girlfriend. The love of my life. I did really love her, there was no doubt about that. I met her when we were both juniors in high school. It wasn’t part of my plan, but if you saw what I saw the night that I met her, you would’ve fallen head over heels in love with her too. I’ll admit that a large part of it was because she was stunning and sexy as hell. She was a little thing at only 5’2”, but long and lean and very well-developed. Her doe-like eyes were the lightest of hazel browns and her nose and face were exquisite. Her name, Isabel, rolled off my tongue like I was meant to say it over and over again. Her voice was soft and sweet and she laughed with her eyes the way real, genuine people did. She carried herself with so much culture and class, but she wasn’t overbearing or prideful. She was perfect. Years later, she still is.
    Perfect and someone else’s.
    Although I tried to focus on my goal of really succeeding in college, she was my inspiration for everything I accomplished. The problem is that I never told her that enough. She knew that I loved her, but she loved me so much more. She wanted so much to fit into my world that she gave up her very identity, the crux of who she was, to become a part of my life. And she was. A part of my life, that is. And then selfish ambition got in the way of my charting a future with her. And so she waited. She waited for as long as she could, until the inevitable happened and she fell for someone else. By the time I realized that I had lost her, she was too far gone and reclaiming what we had was no longer possible.
    Maps, charts, plans. I’ll be happy for the rest of my life if I never have to mention those words ever again. That ambition totally ruined me—the more I sought success, the farther life pulled her away from me.
    That night, we were getting