Tears in Autumn

"You like the painting?" He asked.

"Do you?" She asked back.

"In a way. I thought it made for interesting conversation." He said.

"When she sees the ship, she says "The cry did knock against my very heart!" She said softly, reciting the lines from Shakespeare's play "The Tempest".

The painting was of Miranda, looking at ships being sunk by the sorcerer Prospero who was also her father.

"I see you have a knack for Shakespeare." He said.

"So you must like the painting a lot?" He went back to his initial question.

"Too much passion and drama which is an unnecessary waste of time, but you're right, it makes for interesting conversation." She said.

"So you and I, we are alike then." He said.

The other notable furniture in his room was a lounge chair which looked very comfortable, Ron's table which was positioned right in the centre of the room and another smaller one where cookie jars and chocolates lay. The carpeting was so soft and velvety that one could remove their shoes and jump about with joy on it, she thought. She liked the colour - yellow. Always bright and cheerful.

"Yesterday I couldn't make it. I was busy at work. I am sorry." He said again.

He felt that he owed it to her to really explain what was going on in his head, but he feared the worst from her. He never really knew what was going on in that beautiful head of years.

For the umpteenth time she reassured him it was ok, stating that she happened to pass by. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He knew well enough that she was checking in on him to see if he was alright but she would not say so. From the time of their acquaintance, never had he seen her put up a fuss over anything at all. He knew she did not want to make a big deal of it. So he felt guilty because she was making it too easy for him. Some retaliation over his conduct would have been more tolerable.

Nell came with two big cups of coffee. She found her boss and his friend sitting down quietly. She wondered if they were former lovers. Dr. Drake was gazing now and then at her; while his companion's eyes were darting everywhere in the room except at him. Nell kept that to herself.

Nell felt like the saviour of the day when they both enthusiastically welcomed her like a homecoming queen to make up for the stillness in the room.

"The coffee is not as good as yours." He said, after Nell had left.

She smiled a big smile.

"Glad to know." She said.

Ever since she found that he was alright and was so nonchalant about not meeting her, she decided that she should not throw fits about how inconsiderate he was. Instead smile and be happy. Keep positive, this was what her psychologist used to say during those difficult years right after her accident. She had mourned the loss of use of her left hand and the feet which corresponded to it. She could not go swimming anymore or cycling; both activities held dear to her.

She told him that she should really be going, as she had locked up the store for over an hour. When she arrived back, she saw an angry Mr. Radkin standing outside the joint.

"Where were you?" He asked, irritably.

"You were not supposed to close shop midday and leave anytime you want." He said.

"I'm sorry. It was just this once. It won't happen again." She said.

"What on earth were you doing?" He asked.

"Something stupid which I should never repeat again." She said.

With that, she was back in and business was good to go.

That afternoon, Ron did come in for his usual coffee. She smiled as she passed him his coffee.

"I'll see you tonight, ok?" He said solemnly, before he left.

His tone was apathetic and the way he said it made her feel that he did not want to meet up with her anymore but felt obliged to. She knew that things like these were to be expected. She had outlived her wittiness and she had no more interesting conversations to make with him. All that banter was just a distraction for him.

Yet she said yes because saying no would mean that she was kicking up a fuss over nothing at all.

When she was closing shop, there he was. He wore a heavy expression on his face and she felt terrible that he was no longer happy with her. On the way, they spoke about the weather. She tried her best to make herself interesting again but she did not know how. The more she tried, the more he tried to make normal conversation too. It turned out very awkward and she wished that he would just leave her to her own devices. Little did she know that he wished he could tell her everything about why he had not been there for her yesterday. Yet he dared not risk hurting her or presenting himself to be the man he did not want to be.

At the station, the front of her train was visible just around the corner when suddenly he turned towards her and gazing down at her face, he looked with an unfathomable expression. He was an enigma to her and she was just as mystifying to him, even after all he had tried to make her open to him. She became aware of his gaze, and looking upwards, without a word, she tiptoed as if to comfort him, only to feel him bending down lower till their lips grazed each other.

She did not know how long they stood together like that. It happened so quickly and it seemed like an accidental move, on both their parts, had provoked this manoeuvre. Yet she felt the tender warmth of his lips and she, by her own volition, did not pull away.

He had instinctively gazed down at her, he knew that much. He had even bended his knees a little as she was petite. He had far from intended to touch her, what more kiss her. Yet his body reached towards her so naturally that he felt they had been separated a long time ago, and had to be reunited. He did not have to think. It happened because it was right. He felt her lips; quivering when his lingered on hers; her lips as soft as silk and as moist as morning's dew.

She had turned her head away. Unintentionally, his lips brushed her cheeks and cascading curls in the process. She felt a deep sensation on her skin which sent jolts to her heart. He felt a need to protect her and also to be closer to her.

The low rumbling of the train meant that the train had come to a halt. The automatic doors slid open. It caught her ear and quietly, without turning back, she limped in. Ashamed at what happened, and with no explanation as to why it happened, she wanted to cry. She always had explanations. At the same time, she did not know why she wanted to cry. She just felt so much and it can only be bad because she felt like crying.

He stood there long after the train had gone. He too, had no explanation for what just transpired. He savoured the feel of her lips against his, ever so gentle and light. Almost ethereal. She was like an angel who lingered a little longer on earth. He could not trust his mind to say that he bent down to kiss her or whether it just happened like that when he was unaware of it. He was between the devil and the deep blue sea. He felt a longing which was intense yet a responsibility to do what's right. This meant that he should not see her again. Everything should be reverted back to the status quo of prior to their first meeting. If only he could turn back time, but he could not, and the ball had started rolling. There was no turning back. What he did was beyond his control now.

...

She did not see him for the next two weeks. This time she did not visit him nor call him. She walked alone to the station in the dark. Winter was wearing its ugly head. The wind was so chilly and ice on the pavements made it more difficult for her to get to the station. Every time it was slippery, she had a recurring phobia about the accident. It happened in winter exactly ten years ago. The roads were slippery. Maybe that was why the drunkard truck driver hit her. He would have been able to control his vehicle had it not been for the sleet.

She admitted to herself that she was heartbroken. Clearly he had rejected her. She had been a fool. She thought that she had taken every precautionary measure to avoid her predicament. Perhaps more is needed. She should be solitary and very much alone in her routines. Not accompanied by anyone, especially to the train station. This was a new principle in her unspoken rules of how to live life now.

In the meantime, Mr. Radkin noticed that she was a bit more aloof then her usual aloofness. She was polite enough but just barely enough to sustain a deeper conversation. One afternoon, a man in his early twenties ordered a latte and she noticed that he was observing her like no other. Curious and being very direct, she asked him if her disability bothered him. He replied that it did not, but asked instead if she was the test subject of Dr. Drake's latest research paper on the link between physical disability and emotional responses. The paper mentioned that the test subject was studied unaware over a course of five months to see the varying responses to different situations.

She could hardly believe her ears and asked to see this paper. He fished out his cell phone and showed her the article, gallantly stating that he could send her the file. They exchanged numbers (this time she was not concerned about being private as she did not care at all for Dr. Drake's intern - she found out who the young man was) and the next moment she was reading the research. Basically the purpose of the paper was to seek interested investors to fund Ron's further research in the same subject matter. She was an "ideal test subject who displayed controlled emotions very well" as a means to cope with her physical disability. This coping mechanism was best seen in short, witty remarks which left room for interpretation. Some of their conversations were given as examples. The research concluded that the test subject functions well in society due to a stable job and that more could be done to assist people with physical disabilities to help them open up to the world.

Her world spun round. It was highly unethical of Ron to engage in such undercover tactics. All was just an experimental game to him in the guise of scientific research. Of course, after the field work was done, there was no need for him to associate himself with her anymore. Neither did he care whether she was happy or sad; nor lived or died for that matter. She was terribly upset yet also awfully mad. Upon researching on the internet about his article, she found out that he was due to give a talk about it to medical professionals and the public at the psychology centre the next week. She would make sure that she was there to expose him as an unethical scum that he was. She was also fuming mad that such a paper could be published in the first place; disregarding the rules of ethics.

The intern was watching her intently, studying her like a laboratory rat.

"May I have Dr. Drake's cell phone number?" She asked.

"Well, I'm not sure if I should be giving it to you." He said.

"Well, you should not have approached me in the first place, telling me about all this. I think that you just wanted to see my reaction, isn't it? I wonder how Dr. Drake would feel about this." She replied.

The intern gave in. That night, she called him for the first time since they knew each other.

"Ron, it's me, Lily. I work at the coffee joint. Do you remember me?" She asked.

"Lily." He repeated her name.

"I do remember you." He said.

How could be possibly forget her? He thought about her daily. She was in his every waking hour.

"Can you come to my place now?" She asked.

"Are you in any trouble?" He asked.

"I don't know. I'm confused." She replied.

That was the truth.

He came almost immediately; the fastest a car could go. When he arrived, he had a worried look on his face. Probably about his stupid research, she thought. Yet she greeted him a little nervously and invited him in.

"I have missed you." She said.

He looked at her. His mouth opened, but no words would come.

Finally he spoke.

"I have missed you too." He said, his voice low.

Upon hearing that, she closed the gap between them. She raised her hands to his hair, caressing his curls. He gave a deep sigh and pulled her in towards him. She started to move her hands to his face. Boldly she positioned his face in such a way that she could kiss him. He groaned and responded with fiery passion.

This time they kissed with all the longing they had for each other. His lips probed deeper into hers; he felt her passion for him. She felt his strength and determination to make her his.

"Lily, are you sure this is what you want?" He asked; his voice low and husky.

"Only if you desire me." She said; her voice soft and inviting.

He started kissing her cheeks, her neck and moved lower to her décolletage; and then to her breasts. Her breathing became laboured. She was not used to the sensations but she arched her breasts to his lips.

"I want to feel more of you, please." She whispered.

"Take off your clothes then." He whispered back.

She carelessly flung her blouse on the floor. He unclasped the plain bra she had on.

Her body was nothing but plain. He looked in awe of her body. Suddenly she felt shy. She had not been intimate in a long time. Neither had he. She covered her breasts with her right hand. She had second thoughts. Perhaps she need not do this to him.

He took her hand down. He took her in his full view; and told her tenderly "It's alright. You do not have to hide anything from me. You are beautiful."

He took her breasts in his hands and started kneading them with constant pressure. She started moaning at the sensations which were streaking through her body. It made her almost senseless because she felt too much. Then when she felt she could not take it anymore, he proceeded to nibble at her breasts by flicking his tongue over her rosy hardened buds, sending her to waves of ecstasy; again and again.

Her moans turned him on. She was like wild fire, and so was he.

"Take off your clothes." She said too, only that she was on the verge of ripping off his buttoned shirt, and she did actually rip his shirt off.

A few buttons came plodding on the marble floor. He became more and more aroused. His long trousers felt awfully tight.

He took her inside him there and then without waiting to get to the bedroom. Hand against hand, chest against chest and lips against lips. He groaned when he entered her. She was moist and tight matching his hard and full arousal. She moaned inarticulately when he probed inside her with rough, thrusting movements. His body was covered in sweat and so was hers. He groaned like a wild animal, somewhat in pain. Finally he was spent, and he grabbed her close to him; clutching her in his arms like his second skin.

"I'm sorry I wasn't gentle." He said hoarsely and in between breaths.

"Don't be sorry. I wanted you just as much." She said.

She looked perfectly satiated. Her eyes were half open and whilst her eyelids fluttered at him; he saw an infinite depth in the blue of her eyes which he had not seen before.

They finally made it to the bedroom. They were together as one whole; their bodies knowing no other. The world was lost to them. The whole night was passion-fuelled. Finally they slept with his arms and legs on top of her; her head on his shoulders.

The next morning, he told her that he wanted to tell her something important about why he had not been to the joint.

"You were busy." She said, as a matter of fact.

"Lily, I was busy, but not busy enough to stop seeing you. I am plagued with guilt for I have betrayed your trust." He said, honestly.

She waited for him to speak more. She was eerily calm.

"I made you my research subject. As I got to know you better, I felt that I could not do this to you. My research was already done; and I decided to keep it just for myself because you were special to me. However the file was saved on my work computer and my intern thought that I had meant it for publication. He sent the research for publication, and the rest spiralled from there." He said agitatedly; all the while waiting for her response.

She did not appear surprised, he noted.

"I have already known." She said, looking at him directly in his troubled eyes.

Now, it was his turn to be shocked.

"I cannot tell you how sorry I am. You must be feeling very hurt and angry. I understand if you are mad at me." He said, trying to reach out to her hands at the same time.

"Am I special because I am different from other people?" She asked softly.

Much as she tried to hold a stoic expression, her eyes were brimming with tears.

"Yes, very much so. If only you knew how much." He answered, holding her limp hand; the hand which served no purpose.

He wanted to comfort her and show her how much he cared, but he sensed that she wanted some distance from him.

"I was your ideal research subject because I am a pathetic cripple in your eyes, living a mundane experience. That was how very much different I was, wasn't I? This hand you are holding is useless. The leg is useless. I'm damaged goods." She articulated word after word; feeling a stab in her heart.

The tears flowed down her cheeks.

"No, not at all! You misunderstand me completely. You are different from other people because you left an impact on me. You made me feel something I thought I would never feel. You made me feel love. That's how special you are to me." He said.

He started to caress her limp hand and he bent down to caress her limp leg gently.

She started sobbing, but she instantly tried to stifle her sobs. She tried hard to ignore his caressing of her crippled, useless body.

"I did not have the courage to see you after publication of my research. I was afraid that once you heard the truth, you would not want me by your side anymore. I was afraid of hurting you too." He said, feeling terribly upset that she was sobbing.

"Well, you said in your research I could repress my emotions very well." She said.

Her working, non-useless hand gently pushed him away from touching her body although if she were honest with herself, it pained her to do so. She could not control those damn tears of hers which fell like rain, but with great effort, she had managed to stop sobbing.

True to the research, there was a repression of emotion somewhat. She led him to the door and that was it. He tried to explain himself more but to no avail. She would not hear it. Yet at the other side of the door, she cried until her whole face was puffy. She had to take the day off work.

The following days, he tried calling and appearing at the coffee joint. She was back to being the monosyllabic barista. Always ready with a painted smile when she handed him his coffee, but he knew better that she was hurting inside. He tried to apologize and to make up for what he did but to no avail. She was closing down on him. Her barriers were up again.

She had said, "I accept your apology."

Then she had wished him a good evening, refusing his arm. She walked to the station alone.

The next week, she appeared in his talk. She wondered why he did not just cancel it after all the brouhaha he had told her about feeling love. Love! What a cheap and overused word. Perhaps he was treating her like his patients, giving her some "mantra" to think over.

She did not care for her own dignity. Physical disability had nothing to do with me, she thought, but hurt and rejection made her feel this way.

He spoke to the crowd. He mentioned that he met a wonderful person and in the course of their acquaintance, he grew to respect her as a good friend. Ultimately he said his research had no value because he had betrayed this wonderful person's trust.

The crowd was aghast and there was silence in the room. The reason she came was to speak out about how unprofessional he was by having sex with his research subject, but she could not now. She wanted to get back at him, but he got back at himself. She wanted to discredit his research, but he did so by his own free will. He had a choice to either talk professionally about his research or discredit it. He made that one choice.