The Segment (Completed)

50. Thinking Out Loud

(unedited)

The sky was pink, there was the smell of roses and freshly watered grass in the air. There were lanterns suspended in the air around them. And in the middle of all that, there was a table set up with dinner for two. Her hand slipped out of his as she walked slowly into the rose garden, taking in every single detail in front of her. The rich white linen table cloth, the fine china plates, the crystal glasses, the silverware; it was all set up for her.

"Richard," she breathed, "this is beautiful." She turned around to look at him.

Richard stood back as he watched her intently with hooded eyes. He was on a sensory overload. The softness of the silk that brushed his arm as they walked to the rose garden hand in hand. The scent of honey and almonds in her hair. The warmth that emitted from her hand. The softness of her skin. The vision that she was right now, with her hair tumbling down her back and her shirt swishing with every small move that she made and that glow of happiness on her face. Everything combined into a heady sensation; and he felt intoxicated. He felt punch drunk.

He swallowed thickly as he remembered the promise that he had made the night before to Farrah; that she could trust him not to overstep her boundaries. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the table and pulled out a chair, gesturing to her to sit. Farrah took tentative steps towards Richard and set as he pushed the chair in. She couldn't help but giggle as she felt the warm air blowing against her legs.

"You've got the heater on underneath the table," she said in fits of giggles.

"Well, I didn't want you to get cold feet," he said winking at her and Farrah laughed again.

"So what's for dinner tonight, baby?" she asked as she cupped her face in her hand, gazing at him. The term of endearment slipping through her lips so naturally, that Richard couldn't stop the smile that was on his lips.

Farrah watched as Richard explained that they were having a five-course dinner. Everything was designed to her liking, but he wouldn't tell her exactly what they were having. As Richard finished explaining everything, a waiter seemingly appeared out of thin air and started pouring them their drinks; sparkling water with a slice of lemon in it.

"It's pretty anticlimactic isn't it, drinking water with such a fancy dinner. I'm sorry you can't have your usual wine or whatever," Farrah trailed uncomfortably.

"Farrah, give me your hand," Richard said with his palm outstretched. He watched her slowly place her hand in his. Threading the fingers together he squeezed her hand lightly. "I need to tell you something. Or rather confess something..." he said heavily.

"What...What is it?" Farrah asked swallowing nervously.

"I don't drink. At all. I've stopped almost entirely for three years now. Since I've been on anti-depressants for the last three years," he said as he expelled his breath in a rush. He watched as Farrah's eyes grew wide with each word he spoke. She stared at him with wide eyes as he waited for her reaction.

"You're on antidepressants?" she murmured softly, as she squeezed his hand. Farrah wasn't really sure how to react. Images of her mum flashed through her mind like a movie playing on high speed. Her throat felt dry and scratchy and her eyes were watering.

"Farrah...," Richard paled, as he watched Farrah's lip tremble and her eyes water. He got up from his seat and rushed over to her. Kneeling at he chair he looked up at her. He shifted her so that she was facing him and clasped her hands in his.