THE FIGHT

BY JITKA SANIOVA

It was the fight of a rose against a hypodermic needle.

"Alison, put the syringe down, please."

The young woman stopped her right hand that held the hypodermic needle heading for her left forearm. The thing that made her look older. She was actually 26. Anybody would guess 10 years more.

"Alison, do you hear me?"

The young woman stared into space, like she saw something that reminded her of her forgotten thoughts.

"Alison, throw that terrible thing away, please."

"Why?" asked Alison without looking Peter, her husband. The modern version of a handsome fairy tale prince. A successful lawyer at the age of 29. His face had the kind of smile that was the perfect model for advertising a book "How To Become A Good Father."

"I'm not happy with you," sighed Alison. Always at the office. Always busy with new cases. Always tired. Always talking about his job and his clients. Always nervous. Always unsatisfied. A lot of women envied her, but for what?

"We can begin our new life together. I want to spend more time with you."

"What about your career?"

Peter stepped closer to her.

"Donīt take another step!" Alison screamed like she was in front of a dangerous maniac. Her body shook with anger and fear. "Where you were when I needed you?"

Peterīs mouth opened, but no words got out.

"You bastard! Where you were when I was waiting for you? Do you know what it means to dream about getting a little love? I donīt think so because your clients... clients?... Your jailbirds are more important to you than your home. Now Iīm one of them. Take a look at me. I take drugs, like your clients!"

"Alison, I promise you..."

Alison continued like she had not heard. "Now I'll call the police. Iīll be taken to jail." Alisonīs screaming turned in roars of laughter. "Youīll finally care about me. Iīll become case number sixty. Isnīt it amazing?... Stay over there! I told you, another step and I'll give it to myself."

Alison lifted the needle. Her eyes darkened; her voice hardened. "When I lost our child, you preferred defending a thief!"

"I didnīt prefer..."

"Shut up, Peter! Or youīve forgot last May?"

Tears welled in Alisonīs eyes. Her damn boss put Jayneīs name forward for promotion, saying Jayne deserved it more. Four years of her hard work for nothing! Tears fell down her face onto the white tight T-shirt.

"No child. No successful career! Nobody to care about my feelings! How many times I asked you to leave for holidays? How many times have I begged you for to be near me, to keep my hands in yours?"

"Alison, if I had known how it was serious..."

"And weeks passed. I began to ask myself the question: Who am I?"

Peterīs eyes shone with unshed tears. "You are the woman that I love very much."

Alison ignored him. Staring, she spoke in a whisper, "I felt like nobody. Useless, not loved, neglected, no one."

Peter took two steps forward. Alison watched him. The speech and memories made her tired and numb. She looked like a broken, tousled doll. Her eyes and cheeks gleamed with tears. She didnīt sob. Her body just shook.

Peterīs hands wrapped around her shoulders.

Her eyes lifted up to his. Peter's eyes begged. Both remained silent. Alison's heart almost stopped beating. After a long time she felt it was not a dead empty silence. She felt emotions growing in their hearts.

"I brought you a rose," said Peter and pointing to a small table near them.

Tears gushed from her eyes. "Itīs too late."

"No, it isnīt!" Peter raised his voice.

"It is," Alison said calmly in a low voice.

"Alison, you... we can change it!"

The young woman looked at the rose scornfully. Peter took the flower and whispered softly, "Itīs hard to resist, I know, but weīll manage it. Together."

"Together?"

"Yes, together. You arenīt alone anymore."

Alison had no words. She just raised her eyebrows. She was scared, but it was different kind of fear than before.

Peter knew the situation had reached the breaking point. Alison, in the same moment, began to hope about their future and hesitated about the poison which was destroying her life.

"Alison, throw the needle away. Honey, I love you. Do it for me, please."

For a second or two Alison peered at the syringe in her hand. She was fighting. "I canīt do it," she sighed painfully. "Iīm sorry, I canīt."

"Darling..."

"When I take the drug, Iīm not unhappy anymore. Troubles disappear. I donīt feel the awful loneliness..."

"Itīs an illusion. You know drugs give people pipe dreams. And in the end, a high price is paid for it. Alison, pull yourself together, please. If you love me, if you trust my promise, if you believe in us... My darling, please, donīt give up the fight!"

Alisonīs heart divided in two. One contained the red rose from Peter. The other asked for the drug. The first one was full of hopes for the future with the man that meant everything to her. The second was built on nothing but indefinable illusions that did not make happiness.

"Alison, I have spoken to my boss. Iīll be working on easier cases. Iīll be with you more, helping you to find the sense of life, to get the energy for fighting, to believe in our love."

Peter put forward the rose.

Alison glanced at the hypodermic needle, then at the red flower.

Two worlds struggled, fighted for her favour. Her physical body pleaded for the drug, but her soul longed for the accepting love offered by Peter. How long had her heart been tortured by the lack of human feelings! She had felt like a soulless puppet. Suddenly she was able to feel not only a desire for giving love, but a chance to fill up her soul with a hope for getting missing love.

Alison stepped toward Peter. She allowed to the last two springlets of tears to leave her eyes. She threw the syringe on the ground and accepted the red rose from Peterīs hand. He gathered her in his arms. Alison felt happy. She knew she had chosen the journey of pain and fight. Still she was shaking and crying with happiness. She had managed to get free from a terrible badness and to start the part of her life leading to the arms of love.

Alison dropped the rose. It fell on the syringe as she embraced Peter, her eyes full of tears and her heart full of love.

It was fight of the rose against the hypodermic syringe.

The rose won.

I was born on March 11, 1969. I'm a writer (and columnist) not only as profession but also with my heart as I love to write. I have published here, in the Czech Rep., several books - especially romance novels for girls and women and articles in several magazines. My hobbies are: travelling with my husband, cinema, music, animals (I love especially dogs, wolves, dolphins, owls, tigers etc.), reading, ocean and, as I study astrology, Universe.

With many warm greetings from the heart of Europe
Jitka Saniova