Monday, 28 January 2013

Love never lasts

Copyright © Maja WroĊ„ska

There is a room.  A room that is held dearly in the heart of one man. It is the room he fell in love. A room that his heart was broken. It is a room filled to the brim with memories, so much so he cannot enter the room anymore as they seem to suffocate him. He remembers her and the times they shared. Two beautiful people sharing beautiful times. They loved with the intensity likened to addiction. Though this love was never meant to last. Something created with such passion is destined to fail. They both knew this, but it never mattered to them. The day of their separating was something far off; a dull light in the distance.
He was an artist by trade. He would sit alone for long hours creating his masterpieces. This did not pay very well and he was forced into the commercial aspect of art. He found a job painting umbrella’s for the wealthy. The kind of people who have too much money and always want something unique. He hated them, but they earned him enough money to live. It was through this he met her. She entered his life in the same way she left; a flurry of dramatic tendencies and whimsical ideas.
She had heard about his umbrella’s through a friend and wanted one for herself. She was always wearing the latest fashion, and a one of a kind umbrella would be a source for envy among her peers. She knew she had to attain one no matter what the cost, what she did not bank on was falling in love with the artist.
He was working on another order when she entered the room. Without knocking, rich people seldom knocked he had found. He carried on painting, he could hear her behind him, but she could wait, he was almost finished on this section. Turning round he let out an almost inaudible gasp. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her eyes were a deep blue and so alive. A perfect mouth and the tiniest hint of a nose. He stood staring at her, she was a true vision, her bright red coat nipped in at the waist enhancing her perfect hourglass figure. She was an artists dream. Gathering his composure he quickly took her order. It was a complex pattern, and he was swamped with orders already, but he knew he couldn’t resist her. He would do his best work for her. After she left the room there was a lingering scent of her perfume and her face was etched into his mind.
He spent the next week working on his orders, but he could not get her image out of his mind. He was considering calling her in for another discussion of what she wanted, he needed to see her again. Picking up the phone his heart beat furiously, but he had to do this, if only to make sure she was real. A quick phone call later and he had set up the meeting. No turning back now.
Once again she entered the room without knocking and sat down. Her wide eyes blinking furiously with impatience. He offered her a drink and she declined stating she was on a diet. Those rich people and their obsession with their weight. He began asking questions of what she wanted, he already knew the answers, but just the sound of her voice sent heavenly tingles throughout his body. As he began to sketch out ideas, she looked round the room. Noticing a half finished painting she questioned him about it. Telling him of her love of art and artists. He saw that she was softening to him, seeing him in a new light. There was hope. He was attending an opening of a gallery that night, and without thinking invited her along. She immediately agreed and he could not stop the smile at the thought of spending a night with her.  The meeting ended on a good note, with him promising to pick her up from her flat later that afternoon.
This was the night their love began. She had a soft spot for artists. Their creative minds were fascinating to her, a welcome change from the discussions of politics and fashion she usually was privy to. His love of art radiated out of him in waves and drew her to him like a magnet. She could feel the pull even after she had been home in bed for hours. He felt the same. The night could not have been any more perfect for him.
She began to visit his shop every day with excuses of just passing by and checking up on her order. He loved the way she popped in with coffees for him and often would invite her to sit with him while he painted. They spend hours each day just talking about the weather. With her no topic of conversation was dull. After this pattern had continued for several weeks, he plucked up the courage to ask her on a date. Nothing too fancy, just a drink at a local pub after work. She agreed and his heart began to feel like it would explode with excitement.
They had been in the pub for several hours and the steady stream of alcohol had given him a sense of courage. She was sat next to him, their bodies just touching. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, testing the waters. She looked deep into his eyes and pulled him in closer, kissing him deeply. He responded with enthusiasm and they soon left the public eye.
The morning sun filtered through the cheap blinds, greeting the lovers with the promise of a new day. They did not want the night to be over, the magical night where two souls combined. A tangle of bed sheets and whispered declarations of love that would last forever. Morning had come and with it brought the unavoidable call of real life. Their relationship could not exist in daylight.
For three months they spent daylight hours separate and the setting of the sun found them reunite. Sharing their love in a heady mix of sex and wine. It was beautiful. It was secret.
Life tends to ruin the good things we have, and this was true of their love. He began to get jealous of her male friends, he wanted more. He wanted to be seen with her in daylight. She liked the secrecy, did not want to explain to her peers that she had fallen in love with a penniless artist.
The nights turned from whispers of love to constant questioning of their seriousness. She was beginning to grow bored of him; she had met a man who she considered husband material. Her dalliance with the artist was over.
She couldn’t tell him to his face and one morning he found a letter waiting for him on his desk. A letter that broke his heart. She no longer wanted him, she had met someone else. She had told him to find someone else, someone who could be open about their relationship. He knew he would never see her again. He had never been invited into her world, and because of this he knew nothing about it.
He spent every waking minute in his shop creating beautiful umbrellas in memory of her. The floor was littered with constant reminders of her beauty. He could not work here anymore. He needed a new life, a new city. He would not sell the shop though. He would keep it as a painful reminder of the love that he lost. It was the best and the worst three months of his life. He would never forget her and he hoped she thought about him too. This love was never meant to last.