Love Never Dies Pt. 03

I kept hoping that you would see sense and we would reunite but, of course, it never happened. When I read that you'd got married, I hit rock bottom. It was after that, I decided it was best not to get too involved with men. I really couldn't face going through such upheaval and sadness again. That's why, in a strange way, I was glad to hear that you didn't forget me altogether. It's nice that you thought of me sometimes - even though it's 32 years (next month, on the 11th, actually) since we last met. Ugh, that was a horrible day.

Anyway, as people do, I picked myself up, dusted myself down and got on with my life. It's not been a bad one, overall, but I made some mistakes. I just don't dwell on them. They've happened, they're in the past.

Well, Richard, I think I've rattled on enough for now. But, one final word. You say you're back within 25 miles of your old home. I've never moved far from base. Who knows, perhaps one day we'll bump into each other. Might be a surprise for Veronica. Does she know about me? Or didn't you discuss old flames?

Okay, that's it. I do hope you'll reply soon. Love seeing your name pop up in my inbox.

Take care,

Petal

(By the way, think I'm more butterfly wings now. Sorry if that's rude xx)

I read the message again - and for a third time. I relaxed back into my chair and pondered the contents. It was a sad message in many ways and I was sorry - felt truly sorry - that I'd had such a harsh affect on Gaynor's life. And for such a long, long time, too. I sighed and rubbed my temples, eyes squeezed shut behind my spectacles.

What to do? What can I do? What happened in the past cannot be erased. As much as I'd want to turn back the clock and do things differently, it's not possible. Can the damage be repaired? No, we're not talking about a car needing a bit of body work after a collision. This is a human being. We're not talking about patching up or restoration. This is about healing. And that's probably nigh impossible.

I removed my spectacles and drained my glass, still deep in thought. Gaynor says it was 32 years since we last met. She even remembers the exact date . . .

±±±±±±±±

THEN

GAYNOR crossed her right leg, the back of her knee resting on her left thigh. She wore open-toed shoes with a small heel and her nails were painted a deep red. Her finger nails were similarly coated.

I put my hand on her nylon clad right thigh and said: "I don't want us to end this way, Gaynor. But I've moved on and I wont be coming back down here in the future. At least not regularly."

"Yes, I understand that," she said, her husky voice almost a croak. She turned her head slightly to look at me, a hooped ear-ring swinging against her cheek. "But, as I keep telling you, I cannot just pack up halfway through my training and exams and follow you up north. With all the good will and love in the world, Richard, what happens if we don't work out? What happens to me then?"

"Why wouldn't we work out? Before I got this better job and moved, we were doing great, weren't we? And in this past nine months, we've kept in touch on the phone and by writing. I've not thought about anyone else, just you Gaynor."

"Oh Richard, Richard," she sighed, shaking her head and placing a soft palm on the back of my hand. Her brown eyes bore into my own eyes. "You're being so naive. I'd love to come and be with you but it's just not practical."

"Practical!" I exploded and was immediately aware that a few of the lunchtime drinkers had glanced over at our corner table. "Sorry," I said, lowering my voice. "I don't get this practical bit. I thought we were talking about love here and wanting to be together."

Silence enfolded us. Gaynor sipped her soda and lime and I watched her swallow. She replaced the drink on the table, ice cubes rattling, and said: "Richard, I love you with all my heart. I'm almost 23 and, even though that's young, I can't ever imagine loving anyone as much as I love you. But," she waved a finger like a metronome to stop me interrupting, "I cannot take a chance on it all working out. I have security here and the promise of a good career. I enjoy nursing and want to take care of people. I'm even considering training to be a midwife once I've qualified as a nurse."

"Christ, Gaynor, there's hospitals everywhere, even up bloody north where I am. Why on earth can't you come up with me?" I blew out my cheeks, exasperated.

"Why can't you understand what I've been telling you for months?" Gaynor said, barely above a whisper. "One more time: I am a student nurse at the hospital. I am hoping to qualify in just over a year from now and I cannot have any disruption while I'm training and sitting exams. If I was qualified, it would be a different matter. Then I could apply for a nursing post at a hospital near you, if there are vacancies."

My beer glass was almost empty. I swallowed the remains in one angry swallow. "So, I can't persuade you, then?"

"It's not a matter of persuading me, Richard. It's just not possible at this time." She paused and lifted my hand off her thigh and gripped it firmly. "Look, I didn't ask you to stay here, did I? I didn't ask you to turn down your new job? I didn't try to stop you moving on with your career. So, why can't you understand my position?"

I sighed. I loved this woman dearly but we were, literally, going nowhere. Reluctantly, I looked into her eyes and said: "Guess that's it then, Gaynor. I wish it wasn't so but I don't know what else to do."

I could see a tear forming in the corner of an eye and Gaynor's beautiful white teeth bit on her lower lip as she shook her head once more. This time in despair. "We don't have to split," she managed to mutter, valiantly holding back her tears. "We can get by for another year or so. Surely we can keep in touch like we have been doing, meet up sometimes. We could even arrange our holidays together . . ."

"No, Gaynor," I cut in. "That wouldn't work. Not a long distance relationship. If you can't change your mind, if you don't love me enough to do that, then it's best we go our own ways."

"Oh Richard, that's not fair. Nor is it true." She pulled her hand out of my grasp, brushed fingers across her damp cheeks, and then sat upright, her magnificent bust stretching her black sweater as she inhaled deeply. "It's not about how much I love you and I'm deeply sorry that you even thought that, let alone said it."

I did regret the remark. But I had macho pride, I was stubborn and I wanted to break her resolve. Clearly, that wasn't going to happen. I shrugged my shoulders and said: "That's the way I feel."

I stood up, bent at the waist and leaned in to kiss Gaynor firmly but briefly on her red lips. It was my last taste of her lipstick.

"Okay, there's a train I can catch. . ." I checked my wristwatch. . . "in twenty minutes. Have a good life and best of luck with your career."

"That's it?" she said, still seated.

I nodded. "'Fraid so. You've made your choice."

She stared up at me for a long few seconds and, with her husky voice almost at normal pitch, never stopped looking into my face as she said: "So be it, if that's how you really feel. You go now, catch your train. I hope you find what you're after. Go. . .go on, go now, please." She flipped her hands as if shooing me off.

I started to trudge away, my heart down in my shoes but my head held high, straight back and shoulders square. After a couple of strides, I heard Gaynor call: "Richard, Richard."

I turned and said: "What?"

"Thanks for these," she said, touching a golden hoop, "I'll always treasure them."

"You're welcome," I said and made my way to the door. I opened it and looked over my shoulder to the corner table. Gaynor forced a bright toothy smile and raised her near empty glass of lemon-and-lime in salutation.

That's when it struck me. We'd first met in this bar and Gaynor had sat in the very same corner seat. She'd raised her glass that night and smiled at me. But now I wasn't smiling.

I let the door slam behind me.