In His Eyes

Silence

She smiled into the mirror and fiddled with her hair again.  Mentally slapping her hand, she turned away and went to sit in the living room.  Well, not sit exactly, more pace the room trying not to dart to the window at every noise.

She'd deliberately tried not to overdress; jeans, silk shirt, nice boots. She wanted to look like she made an effort but hadn't tried too hard. She hadn't quite broken out the date night undies quite yet! Makeup, jewellery, and a suede jacket. She felt well put together. If you ignored the bag of snakes currently writhing around in her stomach, that was.

8pm. Her watch vibrated on her wrist, and she almost jumped out of her skin.  A message?  No.  It was just one of the millions of daily alerts everyone seemed to get and never really needs.  It was starting to get dark, so she put on the side lights but didn't draw the curtains. She didn't want Tom to think she wasn't eagerly waiting.

The time ticked on 8.10, 8.15, 8.20. She tried to be positive. She tried to stay calm. A little voice in her head started to gnaw away at her.

He's not coming. He stood you up.

By 8.30, she knew it was right.  Looking out of her window, she could see Tom's house. The living room light was still out, and the house looked dead. 

He wasn't coming. He really wasn't.

Slowly, she stood and closed the curtains. Even if he arrived now, she would smile and hug him and forgive him. Of course she would.  But he wouldn't, would he.  It wasn't a question. It was a sad statement of fact.  She'd been punished for her hubris. What on earth made her think she was worthy of his time and attention?

By 9.30, she'd kicked off her boots, slunk out of the jeans and blouse, washed her face, and was sitting in her onsie watching crap tv, drinking hot chocolate with the lights out.

Roughly 11pm, there was the noise of a familiarly expensive car pulling into the street.  It slowed and then stopped as it drew level with her house, she had the distinct feeling it was him.  She didn't move. 

The car parked further up the street, and she heard footsteps echoing in the quiet street. They walked up to her garden and stopped.  Now she got up.  Parting the curtains, lights still out, she looked into the night. 

He was standing looking up at the house.  Dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, tie loose around his neck.  His face was pale in the moonlight, his hair ruffled. She got the feeling he was upset.  No more than she was, though she said to herself.

He caught sight of her looking down at him, and he smiled hopefully. He made a move towards the door, and she snapped the curtains shut. Message sent.

His footsteps retreated for a few steps and paused.  Then he left, his slow pace along the road reflecting his mood. She turned and went to bed, her face awash with tears. Pride would be her downfall. She knew that. But, she argued, if he'd really cared, he would have shown up on time.  No, she wasn't going to be made a fool of.  Not again.  Not like Rob.

Tom looked at his watch. Shit, it was already 7.15. There was no way in hell he was going to be on time now.  It would take him an hour to get home, and he still had to change.

He'd agreed to moderate the Q&A for his friend Ben's new movie as a favour.  One he was happy to carry out, but now, it had run on far longer than anyone had anticipated.  Being known as one of the nicest men in Hollywood had its drawbacks.  What he REALLY wanted to do was get up, throw on his jacket, and leave. Drive straight to her house and beg on bended knee to forgive him. 

What he did, though, was pull his mind back into the room and smile.

"Now, what's the next question for Mr Cumberbatch?"

At 10 p.m., the final guests left.  Tom breathed a sigh of relief as he and Ben walked back to their respective cars.

"Good to see you again Tom, don't make it so long next time, ok? In fact, why don't you come for dinner soon? Sophie's dying to see you again. Seems she thinks it's about time you settled down. She might be able to get you a plus 1.  Can't imagine there will be a shortage." He smiled and winked, and Tom flushed and mumbled something  about 'not necessary'.  Ben stopped as he went to climb in.

"Really? Spill!"

"Oh well, nothing much to say. In fact... Oh shit! Look at the shitting time. Hmmm, I might need that plus 1, after all.  I'll call you soon, ok?"  Tom slapped him on the back and walked away.

"See you soon, Tom. Good luck!" Ben laughed and shook his head. Tom and women? The eternal struggle continued.

Tom drove home as quickly as he dared. Adding a speeding ticket to his night would be the icing on the bitter cake.  It was just on 11 when he pulled into the street, a sickening feeling of dread seeping into his stomach.  He slowed and stopped outside her house.

No lights. Nothing. Was that the flicker of the tv? The curtains were shut, so it was impossible to tell.  He wondered exactly how angry she was. Could he salvage something? Would she let him?

He drove up and parked outside his house.  For a moment, he paused, head on the steering wheel. He had to try. Taking a breath, he got out and walked slowly along the street.

In the silence of the night, his footsteps echoed like gunshots. This would be no ninja approach.  As he approached Beth's house, he undid his tie and loosened the top button on his shirt.  Despite the evening chill, he was sweating buckets. He almost turned tail and went home. It was just his own conscience that made him man up.

He stood and looked up, pulling himself together. Suddenly, he became aware he was being watched. Beth. It was too dark to see her expression, but he knew it wouldn't be one of happiness.

'Be a man Hiddles,' he told himself. 'You have to apologise and try to explain.'

He started to walk up the steps, but as his foot hit the third step, the curtains snapped shut. No light. No movement.
That said more than any words.  He'd let her down. At the first time of asking.

Dejectedly, he trudged back down the steps and away.  Swearing to himself, for once in his life, he hated his job. Why did this life of privilege cost so much? What had he done to be continually held to ransome.  Was it too much to ask for a little success and a little love?

Love. If only it would ever get that far.  When he'd looked in her eyes as they stood on the hill, he'd begun to believe it might be possible.  Now? It seemed as far away as Asgard.

If only he could persuade her. If only he could get a second chance.