The gracious old building had its eyebrows arched above its window eyes.
It reflected how surprised I was to see Lucille standing between them as though she had been waiting for me since THAT day.
In a nutshell:
She stole my boyfriend, my almost fiancé.
I experienced no pleasure when their relationship went belly up. It didn’t lessen my anguish and deep regret at losing both people I loved best in the whole world…..overnight and they were…..gone!
I suffered the grief of emptiness that dragged me down into months of depression. With the help of a new friend, I was hauled kicking and yelling back into the land of the living.
Her words, ‘you’re a talented writer…………STOP wasting it.’ So I shed the black outfits, the black mood and used my talent.
Pixabay
Lucille opened her beautiful mouth and began to speak.
‘I knew you would come to the book launch, so I came very early to catch you before you went in.’
‘Why Lucille?’ I asked avoiding my pet name of ‘Loos’ for her.
Her eyes glistened, ‘to say I’m sorry – more sorry – sorrier than you’ll ever know.
Not because Brian was convicted for fraud, trying to sustain a lifestyle that didn’t belong to us, but because when we broke your heart that day we shattered any possibility of happiness for ourselves. Even in our most intimate moments we were haunted by your shadow. We were deeply embarrassed for ourselves……………..that we had grabbed what we thought was going to be bliss in the face of hurting someone we both loved – loved intensely.
We missed you desperately and it brought us to the full realisation of the betrayal of our precious friendship.’
Her visible shudder told me what she had suffered to make her little speech. Nevertheless my emotions began whirling like a washing machine cycle on SPIN, but I firmly turned it OFF.
For a minute I was writing a play.
Victim of crime should react with:
Tears…..even gut wrenching sobs.
Verbal abuse………..wild gesticulations
Physical abuse…………a stinging slap or a blood nose.
Shock, disgust………
As a writer these thoughts streaked through my mind.
At last I walked right up to her. To her credit she did not flinch.
I so badly wanted to say, ‘when your dream house……. your dream lives came crashing down around your supposedly successful ears, it was payment enough.’
But truth to tell it seems that I don’t have a gloating bone in my entire body. I stared into her still beautiful eyes – her fringe was caught on her long eyelashes. I concentrated on not smoothing it away.
‘Thanks,’ I said and I walked away.
I hoped with all my heart that my departing figure lent me an air of bravado that I wasn’t feeling. Tears were not on the agenda but I had to acknowledge a germ of appreciation for what she had just done. It was, I recognised something to do with that much bandied about word, ‘closure’.
As I lifted my chin a fraction and entered the fashionable book store ‘Readers Haven”, enthusiastic clapping broke out.
People had already bought copies of my surprisingly successful book and were eagerly waiting for me read aloud from it.
A handsome man stepped up and asked me if I would sign his copy.
I couldn’t help admiring the glossy cover so carefully designed. The title – a little long I had thought, but it seemed to be working its magic………
“How long does it take to heal a broken heart.
(In 5 difficult steps.)”