The Grass Isn't Always Greener

"May I?" Michel motioned to the spare seat opposite his former love.

Hope nodded again, "Please." Her voice was ragged and hoarse. She could barely look at him. Her heart and soul were in pain beyond what she thought possible.

They sat for a while, not speaking. Michel contemplated the woman before him, the woman who only twelve months ago he had thought would be his partner for life. Hope in turn tried to avoid his gaze, tried to avoid looking at him. Still she absently twisted her ring, Michel's ring, the dedication of his love now gone, now lost.

"You and Trisha?" She finally managed. He nodded.

"Marriage?"

He shrugged, "Possibly. We haven't spoken about it. It is still early," He reached across the table towards her, grasping her hands in his. "It's time to forget me," he said, as once more he slid the ring from her finger. "This is not healthy," he remarked, holding the ring up, "It's not helpful. Let it go."

She broke down.

"I love you, Michel. Please come back to me."

The shake of his head was another nail in the lid of her coffin. Sealing the fate of a future without him. "No, Hope. You need to accept it and move on. You're a beautiful, wonderful person. We both made mistakes, there's no reason to let them hold you back. You are young, you won't be alone for long."

She slumped, crying as he sat quietly watching. There was compassion in his eyes, and love in his heart. But it was different now. He belonged to someone else. He gently stroked her hair.

"If we'd only gone six months like I wanted, we'd still be together." She whimpered the words, muffling them into her arms that cradled her head.

"Probably," his response was stoic and bland. "But I would never have trusted you again, and our relationship would have been doomed anyway."

"The twelve months?" she looked up, pleadingly at him. "Why the twelve months?"

He smiled ruefully. "I needed the time to work out my feelings, and to possibly move on. To see what happened to us. Six months," he half-shrugged, "it wasn't going to be long enough. I'd have still been too hurt by what you did, what you said, by what you needed. I had to be apart from you longer, so that I could heal or resolve to take you back."

"You always knew we'd end up like this, didn't you?"

"No. I didn't know, but I suspected." He stopped and stood, pocketing the ring that he had given her once, and then returned in anger. His belief that her holding onto it was harmful was pure. He didn't want her hurting, he didn't want her to dream that they could be together again. That relationship was gone, they were done. "The idea to see other people was all yours, Hope. You made it unilaterally. I was happy until then.

"Trisha misses you." His last words, and then he was gone. Moments later her two remaining and loyal friends were at her side, commiserating and crying together.

Love had lost. Her love. Defeated.

[ -- ]

Michel and Trisha's romance continued to soar to new heights, their former friendship the foundation upon which it was built. But the ramifications of that relationship were far ranging. To her dismay, Trisha found that she was now shunned by both Petra and Lila, and though Kimberly chose to support the two new lovebirds, that relationship was strained also. Kimberly felt that she had been caught in the middle and was unable to hide the distress she felt about everything falling apart.

It was a week later, when Michel and his friends gathered at the park to shoot some hoops, that he confronted Glenn and Tony whilst Jason and the others had his back.

"Guys, I heard you like sandwiches," he began, receiving a look of confusion from both, "with Hope as the filling."

Realising that things had altered, and their secret was now discovered, they backed away. Glenn held up his hands peacefully, whilst Tony just turned and ran. Michel however was now beyond caring. He just laughed at Tony's cowardice, causing Jason and some of the others to laugh as well.

"Glenn, it's fine, we weren't together. But," he pointed at the shorter man in an aggressive and intimidatory manner, "a real friend would have told me. You're not a real friend, are you?"

Glenn tried to say something, but what was the point, he'd fucked Hope, along with Tony, and nothing could undo that. It had been short and sweet, both guys had cum, but Hope hadn't, and left shortly afterwards, frustrated and annoyed, cursing their inability to screw properly. What could Glenn say at that point, what would it matter.

"I'm sorry Michel, you're right." Glenn looked at all the other guys, friends that now were concerned about him with their partners, and he realised that they were all friends no longer. It was a realisation that he had fucked more than a hot chick desperate for dick. He had fucked himself.

"I'm sorry, really." Then with a dropped head, and slumped shoulders, he walked in the direction that Tony had run.

They finished out their game in mostly muted silence.

"I've got a hot date again with Heidi tonight," Jason said enthusiastically after the game, "I'm going to do it, I'm going to ask her about being a bit more serious. I think there's something in this one."

Michel hugged him with as firm a grip as he could muster, paying him back for the kindness that his friend had shown him so long ago, and many times over. "You've got this, Jase, best of luck."

Michel had broken it off with the hot nurse, Meredith, who was more than a little upset. He had tried to be gentle, and did it in person at her house. She had thought that the handsome teacher would make an honest woman of her, but it wasn't to be. She was shattered by the fact that the relationship she felt so strongly about was suddenly turned to ash. When the discussion hadn't gone well Michel had felt terrible, and tried to placate her. But his words meant nothing, his actions were pointless. They'd both cried, but her tears were those of the wounded, his tears were those of the guilty.

And then, still reeling from that, he had visited his parents.

"I'm sorry, Michel." His mother was broken up over the complete collapse of his relationship with Hope, and distraught that she had interfered when he had begged them to stay out of it. But mothers often think they know best, and Jean had certainly thought so at the time. She had remembered how happy he had been with Hope, and was desperate for her child to be that happy again. She knew that he loved her, and wanted nothing but that love to stay with him, to instil in him the joy that she desperately craved for him.

His father however was ecstatic, especially when Michel revealed the relationship he now shared with Trisha.

"I was trying to keep the peace. If you'd taken Hope back, if you'd married her, I didn't want any animosity hanging over us, we had to play both sides and pray it turned out ok. Not to mention that your mother can be pretty stubborn at times. I'm glad you didn't listen to me though, glad that you showed strength to listen to your heart and head. You're a smart man, Michel, smarter than me."

It wasn't an instant reprieve, but family is family, and you only get one as his grandfather used to say before his passing. He had to mend the bridges before they were gone forever. And so, forgiveness was something that he tried to give them, though it hurt. Only with Trisha's help did he really achieve it.

His parents now saw their son happy again, blissfully so with Trisha at his side.

[ -- ]

Hope gazed down at the card in her hands. It had been eight long, bitter months since that final, dreadful meeting in The Brown Street Cafe. She'd tried to rebuild, tried to re-establish friendships, but it was slow and painful, full of tears and full of self-loathing.

This beautiful card that smelled faintly of lavender had set her back. It opened up old wounds that she had hoped were healed or close to healing. She knew now that it would take far longer, require more effort and cost so much more hurt and misery.

Michel Corbin and Trisha Stephens extend their loving wish that you would be present with them in celebrating their upcoming marriage built on love, honesty, friendship and trust.

She didn't read any further. She couldn't read any further.

The invitation was relegated to the bin as fresh tears fell.