Rugged Hearts by Amanda McIntyre

poetry class, it was, in his opinion, ludicrous to wrap real pain in a flowery poem. It was raw. It hurt. To his way of thinking, the sooner Hopeful accepted pain for what it was, rather than trying to change it, the better off they’d see the world for the way it really was. Much to his dissatisfaction, the moderator responded and not the way he thought, about his offering.
     
    Montana, it sounds as though you may be struggling with something deep inside of you. Perhaps this class will allow those feelings to flow on paper and you’ll be able to find the strength to let go of whatever that is .
     
    “Yeah.” He eyed the screen sullenly, debating whether to log off and forget this touchy-feely bunk. To his surprise, Hopeful posted. He narrowed his gaze on the post. Hell, they even used a fancy-looking font making him think they were likely of the female persuasion—clearly one that hadn’t lived through enough of life yet.
     
    I used to feel like you, Montana. Life doesn’t always have the pat answers we think we are looking for, and maybe even feel we deserve. However, without the possibility of what may be, life would hold no mystery, no adventure. As the song says, I would have missed the dance. Pain and sorrow can blind us and while it may seem a fragile thing now, possibility gives us an entire future of precious moments .
     
    Wyatt laughed aloud. Sadie raised her weary head and gave him a strange look. After a moment, she yawned, laid her head on her paws, and glanced up at him as if to say, “Please keep a lid on the noise, trying to sleep here.”
    Just as he suspected. Definitely female. Maybe she was newly split from her boyfriend? He toyed with offering his response to her Zen-like e-mail, but decided with someone like that there was little way of rationalizing his view and he wasn’t up for a debate tonight. Though it was evident she was in a state of denial, her know-it-all response grated him the wrong way. “You don’t know a thing about my life,” he grumbled and swallowed the rest of his now-cold coffee. He scratched the sandpapery stubble of his day-old beard and peered at the screen. The moderator, apparently detecting the feud about to ensue, posted the assignment for the next day. As he feared, the class was proving to be far different than he anticipated.
     
    Tonight has been a great start to tapping into expressing emotions. Next time, I want you to share with us what is important to you. Put into verse one of your happiest childhood memories. Be sure to print out these classes for future reference. I’d like to encourage each of you to participate in this one. We’ll see you tomorrow night .
     
    Wyatt minimized his e-mail screen, checked the weather and news first, then played a few rounds of online solitaire to try to diffuse the edginess caused by the next assignment. After beating the idea to a fine pulp, he decided he had two choices: either finish the class or quit. To quit was not his style, at least with the tangible things in his life. Besides, it would be like tossing good money down a drain. Before he could change his mind, Wyatt brought up the assignment to refer to and pressed the Print key. He pulled out the first sheet from the printer and heaved a sigh. He’d run out of ink. Frustrated, he eased back into the chair and stared at the offending printer. Once again, Rein had forgotten to stockpile another cartridge. This of course, required another trip to town and so too, another possibility he might run into Aimee, unless he went during school hours. Satisfied with that decision, he saved the assignment and logged off.
    Wyatt stood, stretching his arms over his head and a sudden image of the room years ago, filled with holiday decorations and a tree, popped into his head. A little boy lay on the couch, watching the colored lights of his first real tree….
    A sudden pang of sadness twisted Wyatt’s gut. He jammed his hands in his jean pockets, turned away, and looked