A Lack of Understanding
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- Parts 25
'In 50 or 60
She'll leave me completely
And one of us will coldly hold the others hand
No metaphor for this that I can understand
...
We'll be waiting in the shadows in the dead of night
...
"Remember me daily."
And all that will remain of us is photographs
No metaphor for this that I can understand'
~ Waiting in the Shadows in the Dead of the Night, Little Comets
New Year's Eve, 1919.
"It's a brave new world, there's not a shadow of doubt in that statement. And I just want you to know that whatever you decide to do with your life, I'll back you up, no matter what."
"Even if that does not include you?"
He faulted for a second, contemplating her words, and the meaning behind them.
"Yes. Your life is your life, you have to live like it's your life. Don't tell me what I want to hear because I want to hear it. Tell me what you mean, and if that's that you don't love me, then tell me to my face, not riddles that I have no hope of ever decoding."
"So this is it? No wild proclamations? No argument? What did they do to you, James? Punch the stubbornness out of you?"
"Something like that. Or maybe the barrel of a gun chased that all away."
"You used to fight."
"Francesca, I learned the hard way that if you fight everything, then everything tends to gets it own back." He turned slightly, so that the thin scar ran down his face was pushed into sharp relief. "Besides, where exactly has fighting got us? Bodies strewn across a continent, bodies piled up at street corners, people with far too many demons to count.”
“If you don’t fight, then who will?
“Someone else. What’s the point of fighting when it’ll get me nowhere?”
“Maybe it will.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t really know”
He watched her walk away, and knew that in the moment, there was still hope.
A/N
A huge Thank You to peppermint_curtains for designing the cover, go and read her brilliant stories!
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Caught up in the sins and glamour of high society life, Astoria became the girl no one could trust. In order to return to grace, she must do the unthinkable: find a husband before the end of the year... before her mother chooses for her. With only 3 months remaining in the year, she decided to return to the limelight and reengages of high society life. But with everything she needed to build a future, only one question rings in her mind as she faces her fate: was it worth the price? __ The lighting was dull, but I could still see the shadows of his strong jawline, and the broad, muscular build he hid under his suit jacket. I wished I could see more of him-I wished I could see his face. I was intrigued by him, by the man who couldn't seem to look away. I blinked a few times before turning my cheek, suddenly conscious of the way his hidden eyes bore into me; I could almost feel the intensity of his gaze burning holes into my skull. Maybe he knew who I was; maybe he was one of the people I had crossed, they all looked the same to me. I had too many skeletons in my closet to be able to keep track of who was an ally and who was an enemy. If he was the latter, God help me. It was just the two of us outside now on the once compact Parisian streets. We were completely alone. He could do or say whatever he wanted and no one would bare witness. And yet, neither of us moved, too afraid to disrupt the perfect serenity of the moment. I opened my mouth to speak, but I could not bring myself to utter a word. For the first time, I was scared to know what someone was thinking about me. I wanted to know the type of woman he saw staring back at him. I hoped he saw the woman I was pretending to be: the regal, glamorous, refined young lady I'd been bred to become. But somehow I knew he saw me differently. The man who could not look away could see everything, and I just hoped, for the both of us, that he saw how sorry I was.
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