Songs for the Soul Ch. 05

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.
How many words does it take,
To say I'm through?

* * * * * * * * * * *

Kirsten smiled sadly as the memories of their early love flooded her mind. Those first few months had been wonderful. They were deeply in love, and their worlds had revolved around each other.

She wondered why it hadn't lasted. It had been when his new novel came out that a small gulf began growing between them -- gulf that had steadily widened to the point where Kirsten thought it to be unbridgeable.

This as not helped by the fact Aidan spent increasing amounts of time with his beautiful new publicist, Pamela.

Another thing that infuriated her was the fact that he refused to allow her to do the jacket illustration for his new book.

"Kirsten," he has said, "I know you're work is excellent, but Pamela's found this artist and his work is perfect for the book. Besides, he's starting his career and I want to give him a chance;" when she asked him why she had been rejected.

When Kirsten saw the final draft for the jacket she knew is was far too lurid for the subject of the book, and said so.

Aidan had begun to say, "But Pamela thinks..." and Kirsten had interrupted angrily, "Pamela this; Pamela that; Pamela thinks this is good; Pamela thinks that is bad. What about what Kirsten thinks or says?"

She had been jealous of course, and felt at the time she had good reason to be. Her jealousy had made her irrational, and she had been ill tempered and touchy.

Still, he was at fault too, using Pamela to hurt her when they had fights. Both of them had made mistakes, and both were too proud to admit it. It was then that she realized it wouldn't work. They were too temperamentally alike and would never be able to resolve their differences peacefully.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she thought about what she was going to do and say that night. It seemed so wrong, but in her heart, she knew it was right.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

When Kirsten had confronted Aidan with her grievances he had responded angrily, "I will do what I want, and you can't tell me not to do it!"

His normally gentle green eyes glittering with resentment as they fixed upon her blue ones.

"Yeah, you've made that clear." Kirsten shouted back. "Silly me, I thought that maybe you would love me enough to spend more time with me."

"Damn it Kirsten!" Aidan swore. "You know it's not like that. It's important. I need the publicity. You should know that better than anyone."

"You don't need it; you just want it. You prefer spending time with Pamela than spending time with me," Kirsten had retorted.

"Maybe I do," he said quietly. "At least she understands me and doesn't make selfish demands."

"Selfish demands? Spending more time with me is a selfish demand?" Kirsten responded acidly. "We're a couple Aidan, and we're supposed to spend time; or did you suddenly decide you don't love me anymore?"

"Perhaps I did," Aidan said quietly. "Maybe I like Pamela better."

"Then maybe we should just break this off." Kirsten said quietly.

"We should." Aidan said, averting his eyes from her gaze.

Kirsten walked up to him and slapped him soundly across his cheek. He could see the tears in her eyes, the pain, but he did nothing to console her.

He looked at her, his cheek stinging from the slap.

She waited for his reaction, but all she got was silence. She wanted him to say something, do something, even slap her back, but all he did was stand there and gaze at her, accusation and anger in his eyes.

She couldn't take it anymore. She burst into tears and ran into their bedroom. She shut the door and buried her head in a pillow as she sobbed. How had it come to this, she wondered, when had they become so far apart?

Every night thereafter Aidan slept in the guest bedroom. They barely spoke to each other the whole week. She had left for work in the morning, determined to finish their relationship that night, and in finishing it end their pain.

* * * * * * * * *

I have to, Don't want to,
I've got to set you free.
No more words, It's over,
Now I can finally breathe.

* * * * * * * * *

She closed her umbrella outside the apartment building, and steeled herself. She still loved him, still cared for him deeply, but she had to let him go.

She took the elevator to their floor and took out the key to open the door. She slipped the key into the lock, hesitated for a moment and then turned it slowly, delaying the moment when she would have to enter. When she pushed the door open, she found herself facing red roses - hundreds of them, it seemed.

They were strewn all over the room, bouquets stood on the tables, the couches and the chairs, and in the middle of the room stood Aidan, holding a large teddy bear with the words "Sorry" written on a heart held between the bear's paws.

She felt herself weakening, felt the love well up inside her, but she squashed it. She pictured instead their fights, the lonely nights she had spent crying into her pillow.

Aidan walked toward her, the uncertain smile on his face fading as he saw the expression on her face.

"Aidan," she said, trying hard to keep her voice level - she had to be strong; it was for both of them - "Aidan, I...I'm through."

With that, she placed her key on the mantle beside the door and walked out, shutting the door gently behind her, trying to ignore the pain on his handsome face.

She hurried out of the building and into the street, getting as far away from Aidan as possible. And only then did she allow herself to cry.

* * * * * *

I'm letting you go,
You're letting me down,
I'm letting you go,
Our love's black and blue.
How many words does it take,
To say I'm through?

* * * * * * *