Ink Stains

“Stop writing,” yelled Penny from the ink her pen spilled. “Stop writing! Stop writing this instant. I will not be victim to this. I am not accountable for – enough is enough.”
Geraldine dipped her pen in the pot before him. As she blotted the ink from the tip, she tried to ignore the voice that was begging her. “She loved him from the depths of her soul. Without him she could not breathe,” she smirked with content as she lifted her pen.
“It’s not true. I don’t love him. I don’t need him. I can breathe fine without him. Oh! Would you please stop,” her voice wailed, but Geraldine ignored her.
“She reached out for his hand and at the touch of his skin her fingers traced the figure of infinity along his forearm. She couldn’t imagine her life without him, but after what she had done to him, there was little she could do to convince him that she was truly sorry.”
Geraldine uttered these words at the volume of a whisper; she didn’t want Penny potentially convince her to stop. Penny needed to understand that she couldn’t lie to herself any longer. She was sorry. She needed to apologize and Herald had to forgive her.
“Herald, I know you believe that what I did was done to you. But that is not true. In my wildest dream I would never have imagined how much pain I have caused you. Believe me, I am sorry,” Geraldine replaced her pen in the pot and replenished the ink that would stain the pages before her.
“Geraldine, I didn’t imagine how much pain I would cause him because I didn’t even take him into consideration. Don’t you see how that is even worse? Please, Geraldine. You need to stop. You don’t mean this. I don’t mean this. I knew what I was doing; I meant to do it. You are going to ruin everything.” Penny implored her author, but her pleas went unheard. Geraldine was convicted; she had to set the story straight. She had to set her story straight.
Two plotlines: one woman. Penny saw where she began and where Geraldine ended, but Geraldine, poor Geraldine, she confused herself with her character and was using her Penny’s life as a forum for her own confession.
“Don’t have me bear your burden. Geraldine you may have been wrong, you may still want your lover, but I don’t. Herald doesn’t deserve my penitence. I rightfully wronged him. Let me go- don’t write this ending. Don’t make me do this.”
“She had to let him know how ashamed she was. Her life without him was no life at all. With all my heart I am-” Geraldine stopped. She looked at the last line. Wrong pronoun. Must have been an oversight.
“I know what you’re thinking Geraldine,” Penny exclaimed. “It isn’t a mistake. That was not a mistake. This is not your story- it is mine. Put your pen down. Put it down.”
Relinquishing her sword to her protagonist, Geraldine obeyed Penny. “Step back from the pages that tell your story and think- think about me. What would I say? What were my intentions when I hurt Herald? Did I suffocate his daughter as an act of love, or did I do it because I hate him and had to see him in pain? Think Geraldine. Me. Not you. What would I do?”
Geraldine stepped away from her desk. Walked over to her bedroom and reached into her night-table drawer. She took out a tightly bound leather notebook and turned to a blank page. She began:
“I’m sorry I took her that day, Jasper. We were just going to run some errands. I didn’t see the other car. I wasn’t driving fast. I was paying attention. I’m sorry-,” she covered her eyes as they began to well up. “Will you ever love me again? Can you ever forgive me?”
From the pages of her story, Penny sighed with relief that she no longer had to pay for Geraldine’s mistake. Two plotlines: two women.