After a lot of cajoling and pleading and pregnancy hormones which just seem to love sappy romance, I'm back to writing again. Its been a long time, so I'm a bit rusty, although my editor and fried Ray has done his bit and made the writing beautiful. Thanks Ray. This is a tragedy, mind, so don't read and then tell me you don't like sad endings. Please comment and vote!
Of course, the song is "I'm through" by Blake Lewis. The song is entirely his and I have not modified it in whole or part. I claim no credit for the lyrics.
Zara
*
Kirsten gazed despondently out of her office window at the black clouds rising above the horizon to gradually mask the blue of a summer sky. The gathering gloom seemed to blend with her mood.
She sighed and murmured, "A storm in summer, well, if there's going to be one, no point in trying to avoid or delay it."
She quickly shut down her computer, put away all her files, and picking up her bag made her way out of her office, rather dreading the short walk home.
"Not home," she reminded herself, "Aidan's flat."
By the time she left the building and reached the sidewalk it had started drizzling, presaging the coming storm. She opened her umbrella and began walking. She was jostled by other pedestrians, scurrying to avoid the rain, but she didn't mind. Today, she welcomed it. It helped take her mind off what she was about to do.
She quickened her pace, flowing with the crowd, common sense telling her to find shelter quickly. She thought about where she would be staying tonight.
Her friend Sheila had agreed to let her stay until sorted things out. Her things in the apartment were a problem. She didn't want to take them away today. She sighed. She supposed she would just have to wait and see.
The storm broke, lightening flashing and the sonorous rolling of the thunder. The rain was bucketing down and she sought temporary shelter in a shop doorway.
Unbidden, an image of Aidan's hurt green eyes looking into her own sprang into her mind. She knew that she would be facing those eyes once she had said what she intended to say.
"Oh Aidan," she sighed, and then firmly pushed the image away. It had to be done, for both their sakes.
Why had it reached this point? She wondered; it had all been so wonderful in the beginning. The downpour eased to a steady drizzle, and she continued on her way.
* * * * * * * *
Right back where we started,
Falling apart at the seams.
You tagged your name on my heart
And I sat there and let it bleed.
* * * * * * * *
She recalled the first time she had met Aidan .
"Meet who?" Kirsten had asked, looking at her friend Sheila with a mixture of surprise and excitement on her face.
"Aidan Gregory," Sheila replied with a smug look on her face. "I managed to get us invites to Kenna's party, and she told me that he would definitely be there, since he's Drew's friend."
"Oh God, I can't believe you managed to do that!" Kirsten exclaimed.
"Well, I just did, and you'll finally be able to meet your literary hero, and maybe after that, you can start acting like a normal person again, instead of constantly gushing about him," Sheila said, a wicked glint in her eye. "Ever since you started reading his novels, you're acting as though he's the only novelist who's worth reading."
"He's good," Kirsten said defensively, but she knew that Sheila was right; she had become obsessed with Aidan Gregory's books. Ever since she had started reading them she could talk of nothing else.
She especially loved his book of poetry. Penetrating yet sensitive, reading his poems was like looking into her self; she felt them to be a mirror images of her soul. She really could not understand why Sheila didn't seem to think as highly of him as she did.
"Not my taste in literature," Sheila had said after reading all the Gregory books Kirsten had loaned her. "I prefer mysteries and thrillers."
Kirsten had always wanted to meet him, and maybe even do the jacket illustration for his next book. "So, be there tonight, eight o'clock," Sheila told her as she got up from the table and signalled for the waiter to give Kirsten the bill.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Kirsten said almost to herself, as she gazed at her glass with a smile on her lips.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"There he is!" Kirsten had said excitedly when she spotted Aidan standing in one corner of the spacious room, surrounded by a small knot of admirers.
"Yes, there he is, and he isn't going to run away, so stop pulling me so hard," Sheila said, as Kirsten eagerly dragged her through the crowd toward Aidan.
"Hi, I'm Kirsten Fields," Kirsten introduced herself. "And this is my friend Sheila Warner. We're both big fans of your work." Kirsten nudged Sheila in her ribs when her friend started to chuckle.
Aidan smiled at her, and for Kirsten the rest of the world seemed to vanish; Aidan was the centre of her vision.
"I think your books are wonderful, especially your poetry, so insightful and full of meaning," Kirsten said.
"Kirsten Fields," he said, his expression slightly puzzled. "Where have I heard that name?"
"She did the jacket illustration for 'Beyond Darkness'," Sheila supplied. "Perhaps you've heard of that?"
His puzzlement faded as he said, "Yes, of course, you're the artist who did the jacket cover for Georgia 's book; it was excellent."
His slightly flirtatious manner brought a flush to Kirsten's cheeks. He had her captivated, but at the same time he had been fascinated by her obvious admiration for his work. For the rest of the night, they were inseparable, and Aidan walked her home.
After that first night, they were inseparable. Aidan's wit, charm and warmth enchanted her and her honestly and innocent joy in almost everything proved a refreshing change for him. After dating people who only liked him for his fame and his looks, it was a pleasant change to find someone who appreciated his mind.
After two months of dating, they finally decided to make love. It was a romantic evening, perhaps the most romantic of their lives. After a dinner, they had gone back to Aidan's flat to make passionate, sensual love.
That night in his bed with Aidan, Kirsten felt she had found the love and passion she longed for; the love and passion Aidan expressed so eloquently in his poetry.
He in his turn had been captivated by the beauty of her body and her eager response to his tender love making. By dawn they felt themselves to be deeply in love with each other.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I'm letting you go,
You're letting me down,
I'm letting you go,
Our love's black and blue.
