She failed to resist the temptation of building an imaginary relationship from a short story of a one-night stand. It all started innocently, from a tranquil Sunday afternoon walk in London Fields. He held her hand and it felt right, they were in love.
– Let’s get married, – he proposed over a cup of take away Climpson and Sons coffee.
– Fuck yeah! – she replied in an unladylike manner.
Marry they did, without no unnecessary planning, stressful preparation or extravagant reception, no over the top ceremony for one hundred and one guest neither of them would say hello to.
He woke her up on an early Friday morning gently kissing her eyelids whiles his hand slid up her thigh.
- We’re flying to Barcelona, – he said.
- When? – she asked half awake.
- In three hours.
After less than an hour drive from the airport they reached a little temple half way towards the top of the Montserrat, where surrounded by nothing but cracked empty walls and candle light, they exchanged their vows witnessed by the local priest.
They were back the next day and their humble bed served as a honey moon suit until death did them part…
- Well, I like the bed thing, but all this marriage romance sounds a bit outdated, – he says standing on the staircase to her apartment.
- I think spontaneity never goes out of fashion, especially in love.
- Who said anything about love?
- Well, it’s my story… and you didn’t let me finish, – she says lighting up a cigarette.
She’s a bit nervous, she did not expect him to show up, ever.
- Is there more?
- There are erotic dreams and babies.
- Yes, you are great with them and they are beautiful, so beautiful people stop to admire them everywhere we go. I am worried about their emotional development.
- Are you? But we cannot keep them at home, can we? They will have to learn to deal with all this attention, – he says giving into the fantasy.
Then, they stand in silence, the sun’s slowly disappearing into the horizon. She’d like him to come up and stay, but years have passed and all moved on.
Sometimes she wonders, if they were ever meant to make it work? Would the morning after when he asked to stay and help to peel apples for the strudel and then make love, made any difference, if her answer was yes?
- I must go, – he kisses her on the lips as if no time has passed.
- Where? – she asks and regrets straight away, she knows, she always knew, there is someone else.
He looks away in silent confirmation of her thoughts.
- Why him, she asks herself in unison with thousands of heartbroken women around the world…
- Oh please, don’t end it this way, would be a bit pathetic, don’t you think? – who doesn’t like a happy ending?
- Well, again, you did not let me finish, I had a line about a cinematographic magic, about an affair charged with curiosity and passion that can only burn for one night for it’s so strong it would blow the fuck out of the planet earth leaving no man alive… but I guess, I could play around with an open ending/…
- …/an open ending? I’d like that… – he charms her with a wicked smile.
- Fades into blackout?
He nods in agreement and…