Alison played with her sugar sachet. “If things were different…”
“You mean if you weren’t married, if we’d met before?” He answered the silence, “You’re just confirming we’d be together without the accident of time. Past alliances were right then but now…”
“And you meet another in the future? Will this be a coincidence of timing?”
“This is real.”
“Amy wasn’t? Stuart isn’t?”
“They felt like it, but however safe and comfortable, they aren’t enough. That cocoon is a compromise that cannot endure.”
Her eyes rimmed with tears and she didn’t resist as John cautiously took hold of her hand.
infidelity
Chapter 12 – Love Burns
Alison, planted her elbow on the table, sobbing, her hand across her lowered brow, she scoured the floor for answers discarded there.
John yearned to take her close, hold her tight and decant all her stress into himself.
He leant forward, peering under her tumbling hair, searching for words to ease her mind.
He’d kept away to make things easier but, Fate had scorned his efforts, their efforts.
Unwittingly, his hand had strayed to within a hairsbreadth of hers, across the table. Neither withdrew nor could they dare cross the final barrier. A spark now would weld them together forever.
Chapter 11 – Deep in the Strangest Feelings
Alison sat down with a scowl. “I can’t cope with this.”
“You know my philosophy; destiny, love, we can’t alter any of it, but I’m giving you space to deny it, if you insist.” He paused.
Her eyes narrowed, “I just need you out of my head.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t control that,” John smiled, “And for that matter, neither do you.”
“So, it’s preordained?”
“It would appear so but, if you disagree, walk away.” She stood to leave. “After you’ve had your cuppa.”
Alison sat down again and heard herself saying, “I swore never to see you again.”
Chapter 10 – Always Something There to Remind Me
Thoughts of guilt and despair crashed through her mind. Radio and daytime TV offered no succour. She needed to get out. She’d take her Kindle and treat herself to a cream tea.
Idling through town, woollen hat and scarf wrapped against the cold, she found herself outside the Diner. Remembering the music, milkshakes and good times, she regretted she couldn’t enter; John might be there. Head bowed, she hurried by. The doorbell tinkled as she stepped into the café, unwinding her scarf.
John looked up from a table, “What are you doing here?”
“Avoiding the diner,” she groaned with resignation.
Chapter 8 – Though You Treat Me Like You Do
Stuart stared at the stale mascara streaks betraying her sleepless night.
“Whatever’s up? You look awful.”
“Nothing, just a tough night, I suppose.” She averted her eyes.
“You were late. Something happen? You didn’t fall out with your friends? I know how you lot can be sometimes.”
His depiction of her and her friends’ relationship offered a welcome chance to laugh.
“No, everything’s fine. I told you, just had a particularly scary nightmare, silly to dwell on it.”
He pulled her close, “Hugs for my Darling. Don’t you worry! You’re safe with me.”
“Yes,” she echoed, “I’m safe with you.”
Chapter 2 – When the Night has Come
PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma
Alison fled into the evening. Her tears splintering the glare of the neon signs, she lifted her arm to a taxi she hadn’t the money for.
It sprayed the shimmering lights of a puddle at her as it passed. She watched the shattered reflections reform.
The bus-stop timetable affirmed her last chance home had departed.
“My husband is enough,” she told herself.
Through the window, John was at the jukebox buying more shared memories.
As she approached him, Ben E King pleaded, “Darling, Stand by Me.”
“You came back,” John said plainly.
“Could you…?” she faltered, “…I can’t get home.”
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.
Chapter 1 – Que Sera, Sera
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
John tapped a record into the jukebox and sat down.
“Recognise it?”
Alison smiled, “We shared our first milkshake to this.”
Her hand idled across the table to touch his. As though suddenly discovering its wandering, she jerked it back.
“Are we going…?”
“We have a choice?”
“But my husband…?”
“If he’s enough…”
“My vows…”
“…promises, morals, all pillars of society’s grand architecture.”
A tear hit Alison’s cheek.
“But love is savage; it roils like a tornado scorning man-made structures, flattening everything,” he said.
“With victims crushed beneath the debris…I must go.”
As she hurried away he called, “Enjoy your Christmas.”
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.
Michael Wynn 