Talk of The Town: A Tale of Two Cities

Chapter Six D is for well, Don't you Understand.

Chapter Six

D is for well, Don’t you Understand.

It was late at night like all charity functions end; Dean and Clara were sitting next to one another in the back of the car. Clara like usual had her weary head pressed against Dean’s shoulders, and Dean was looking down at her beautiful blue eyes just thinking.

Dean kissed at Clara’s neck and Clara moaned slightly, “Can I come up tonight?” asked Dean whispering in her ear as he further kissed her neck.

At the slightest mention Clara pulled away and her slight moans stopped, She looked slightly red-faced after looking rather pale since this afternoon.

“Why do you always have to ask?” She replied moving over to the other side of the car.

“I want to be with you Clara! Don’t you want to be with me?”

“I’m not ready!” She declared feeling like tears were about to spring into her eyes, why did He have to ask her after the day she’d had?

“Clara we’ve been together for two years, I’ve known you since we were kids and I love you is that not enough?” Dean said looking stood down.

“Enough!” Clara spat rather revolted.

“Clara, please I didn’t mean it to sound like I am expecting it.”

“Whatever Dean you just don’t understand, and you never are going to!” snapped Clara making motions for the driver to stop the car.

“You just don’t understand!” She said looking fierce and sour as she gracefully got out of the car, her head held high as she slammed the door.

And that was that! Dean was left in the car alone, the driver looking at him with that “Rough day?” look expecting him to open up. The only problem was Dean couldn’t tell what was wrong, or if things had ever been this wrong before?

Dean shut the bathroom cupboard door and put an aspirin tablet into a glass of water and watched it fizz. He had a splining headache after today’s drama, and yet he found himself as He headed off to bed still staring at the phone wondering if He should call Her or not. Maybe it was better if He left her alone for a while.

 He’d never seen Her this angry before and yet He could remember a time He had Her weep in His arms for several hours. The day He had confessed His love for Her since elementary school, the day He’d kissed her sweet lips for the first time.

And suddenly as He climbed into bed, He understood even then He didn’t understand why she wept the way she did then or why now she refused His love.

Dear darling D you do not understand, alas what shall the morning bring?