Journey of the moments #13

Sometimes the heart cannot ease in the night, such as this day, passing by once a year without someone nearby.  Blessed for the ones who have another to share this February 14.  As for the unwanted, to toss the heart into the air for someone to catch, which may fall bruised when slipped again, or to let it beat inside until it dries out…?

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A Rainy Heart

A novel, page 4



And tonight, this very night I am leaving the bed to join the new faces. Then we will talk and laugh, then the night turns to daylight, then what, a few more hours of shopping, gathering, dining, and each will return to the usual. Is this how a weekend should be? Yes I am walking now. If they cannot see me, then I can turn to the left toward the kitchen, leading to the back door.
“Hey, you’re awake. Sorry about the noises,” Brent blocks me in the hallway. “Come, let’s join us,” he says.
I look at his blue eyes and wavy blonde hair, slender built and tall. Then I follow him to the living room.
They, the strangers, standing in groups of 3 and 4. It seems like about eighteen or nineteen unrecognizable faces. Half men, half women. Then I turn to my right where the sofa is, Nate sits with a white wine glass in his hand, watching me. Brent still stands next to me. I look up at him, “Can you get me a red wine? Thank you.”
“Sure, take a seat and I’ll be right back.”
I ease myself next to Nate. He does not look at me anymore. His large brown eyes take another direction. This man, how he has changed in few years, with flat scattered brown hair and a round belly. This man used to smile at me, but the smile has faded the last three years.
“Here, you want red wine, right?” Brent smiles and winks.
“Thank you,” I say. I wish Brent would sit down next to me. I look at him, waiting.
“Brent, can you get more wines out for the guests?” Nate says.
“Why don’t you get them?” Brent says.
“Well, you’re still standing and closer to the dining room,” says Nate.
“All right,” Brent leaves me sitting there with Nate.
 
Each time the sun has gone down, I think of that night. It flashes through. Sometimes I still see him in dreams. The way he looked at me that night, that look, I see still. Has he changed now? Does he still have the same gaze? We were young then. With the nineteen years, how his eyes must have changed, at least the shape. I don’t think people’s eyes change. Perhaps the mind does change, and for some, the heart shifts. As for love, can love change? If it is real, can it change? If I did not notice his eyes that night, if . . . I can’t seem to have an answer now, and after these years, I still don’t know the answer.

Comments

D. Wallace Peach says:

January 26, 2017 at 7:24 pm

I really like this. It’s so full of expectation and regret, (without all the swooning). Beautifully written.
Liked by 1 person

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artfervors says:

January 26, 2017 at 9:39 pm

Thank you so so much. I was worried when I posted these pages. I wrote this novel 9 years ago and put it away without revising; now I change it to present tense as I rewrite the novel day by day. Thank you… your words really encourage me. Thank you.
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alvinchardon says:

January 31, 2017 at 12:04 pm

Ooh, I like the darkness in the voice. And the air around the scene? Not artificial, or dead even, but somehow, unalive?
Keep at it, Arty. Tell your story. The World needs to hear them all before our magic wanders off for good (or in your case: For another nine years).
Good journey!

A Rainy Night

a novel, page 3
Their voices and laughs continue. They sound unfamiliar, except for the ones I have known, and the deep one, is just a voice. I cannot lie here any longer. My head starts pounding. I cannot recall when was the last time I laughed, or when was the last time that I smiled. Only if I can sneak out now to the back door . . . oh how I miss the waves this night. I want to run and run. I want to watch the waves. I want to let them enter my mind rather than listening to talks and laughs, and I look out the window, sky appears black without clouds.
I can hear them, from the bedroom door to the hallway all the way to the living room are a few steps. This place is small, but enough to accommodate the four of us. I remember how they agreed with me to rent this house by the beach because we are fond of the ocean. Yet it has been a year and not once that Nate taken a walk with me along the beach. I do not remember if we had ever walked together anywhere, just the two of us, except he likes to walk to the mall with friends, and maybe tomorrow, he will offer to take these strangers to the mall. That is his love, shopping. I thought that only women would like to shop, but Nate, I think he shops even more than Karie. They have known each other since after graduating from high school. Because of Karie, that’s how I met Nate. Because of Brent, that’s how I met Karie. Because of me being dragged into a bar, by a friend after finishing college, that’s how I met Brent. And somehow is always the night time that I meet friends or acquaintances. It was a night 5 years ago, sometimes in summer, that I met Brent at a bar. We sat down at a table with his friends and Karie. She looked at me that night without a blink. She did not say any word to me, but after a while, she smiled and the next day, Nate showed up at my door, saying that Karie wanted him to go out with me. Maybe I was lonely, maybe I was on a rebound, so I went out with Nate without a second thought. From that night and more nights, he came by every night until I moved in with him. Perhaps I should not meet people at night ever.