Ulric

Ulric was a classic guy, he had traditions

Ulric, poor charming Ulric. I met him around Russia in cold winter, I still remember how my eyes caught in his slicked-back hair, he had a perfect posture and carrying a messenger's bag and walking hurriedly his black cloak trailing behind, as he was nearing my direction I threw myself in the ground, I didn't even bother to try to not hurt myself, I would heal, there is worse, much worse.

"Madam, are you okay?"

I grabbed his arm for support and I stood up. Ulric smiled and quickly frowned, "Why?" then I noticed I was covered in snow. I did not think of my now scratched face but I wish I had thought of my expensive coat, the manufacturer is probably dead so...

"I-I will be ok-okay,"

I wrapped my arms around myself, half of me was covered in a thin, almost nonexistent sheet of snow, he frowned and lent me his jacket. I timidly placed it on, after that, I ungloved my hand and touched his face, his eyes lit up and twinkled in the frosty light. Ulric offered to walk me home after gently taking my hand away from his face and I delightfully accepted.

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Ulric was an old soul, I could feel it. Maybe I had met him in a past life, it happened, my picks never got enough, they always needed more. Ulric always dressed as if he was trapped somewhere in the mid-1800's he acted as though he was a 50's teen humming Elvis Presley tunes and ballads. He was full of traditions, some of which I experienced myself. He always called me up at 7:10 pm, because he knew I had already eaten dinner, he had never entered my house and he always had a flower for me when we went out, normally marigolds, he said they reminded him of my hair.

Ulric was a poet, he showed me new perspectives of the world, he could manipulate the world and bend it. A hairbrush was just a hairbrush until he talked about the symbolism it could hold to someone, maybe it was from their late mother, maybe it was a gift from somebody, maybe it could be a threat.

The traditions and protocols Ulric was so eager to accomplish made the task easier, all I had to do was play along, he sent heart touching poems that did not touch mine because my heart did nothing else but beat, and it sometimes stopped doing so, oh the pain and misfortune of feeling your chest and being greeted only by the hollow silence.

Let us get back to Ulric, backstories are useless and unimportant, especially if they happened millions of years ago. Ulric wrote letters, poems, and once even a song, I was waiting eagerly for him to take it up a notch, so much for classic courting, it could either painfully long or extremely short. There was no in-between.

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Ulric was taking so long, he was being shy, slow, stupid, he was overthinking and I could not stand it. His traditions were repetitive, too many words filled me up, I needed the rest of them, his most sacred ones, the ones he had never revealed to anybody, the ones he kept buried inside, I needed those to fill up, to finally tear-away from him. I decided to spice things up, so I decided to ask him to be my boyfriend. I remember exactly the day...

It was just like how that song goes, I was feeling good that day, well not feeling because I can't feel it. I was just better, prettier, healthier that day. I remember how Ulric had twirled me once before pulling me in a hug. I remember how I asked him to take a walk with me around the park. I remember taking him to a partly isolated part. I remember how as he twirled me once again to pull me in a hug I kissed him.

His first kiss.

My probable thousandth kiss. (I stopped counting a long time ago.)

Our first kiss.

But what really mattered is that he thought that was also my first kiss, he pulled away first, surprised but with a faint smile painted on his lips, then after giving me another quick peck he carried me away, he let go of himself, and he finally caved.

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"You are more precious than a Garnet,"

I almost didn't feel it, the door was so quiet, so subtle when it opened, the traditions crept up slowly to the open door, curious to escape the comforting grasp of Ulric's grasp, too excited and eager to try something new! All of them tumbled into an abyss before sensing the danger. Garnet, why? Because I was becoming a family to him, a tradition. His grandfather had been the owner of this important mining business and guess near what mine he grew up? A Garnet mine! His traditions ranged a lot, there were short sweet ones that woke me up in the morning, long ones that rocked me to sleep. There were sweet ones that accompanied me to lunch and sour ones that drove me home. There were formal ones that traveled around with me and casual ones that lay down with me. There were happy ones that required fake smiles and sad ones that required fake sympathy.

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"Calliope, will you marry me?"

That was his last, most sacred, tradition, the one he was thought to cherish so much, to value, and to give to the right person. He thought he had finally found her. The girl who would walk with him every Sunday afternoon, who he would escort to work every day. The girl who would cook all kinds of desserts for visits, to whom he would open the door every day. The girl who would always comfort him when things did not go as planned, who he could take out and spoil just because he felt like it.

I said yes, and the shock of all of those traditions almost knocked me to the past, the bitter memory of them stinging my timeless self. How many wedding dresses have I worn? A hundred to say the least, but how many meant something to me? One, and thank the fates up above that I would never be able to make the same mistake twice.

Ulric was beyond happy, he gave me his Nana's ring and proposed on his family country home. A lot of traditions came to me, including dresses, special recipes, and of course, the last name. Traditions were all Ulric had and they could be really special because I knew this time I wouldn't find him again, once I left him, there wouldn't be a return sign.

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I left Ulric alone at the altar, I left with his ring and heart. I recall feeling his soul and spirit call for me, to come back, to save him, heal him. But for him, there was no such thing as healing, especially if it was coming from me.

Ulric got married again, seven times. All of them were rushed marriages with mistresses who were expecting, he became a womanizer and left children across his town. Right now he is trying to divorce himself to marry his newest toy and meet his newest offspring.

His Traditions Are Mine.