Again guys, short chapter... However... there's a good one coming soon. ;) I know a lot of people thought this was over... but it's kinda not. Anyway, REVIEWS POR FAVOR!
When Marius returned home after that fateful day, he did not know what to do with himself. Usually he just killed time int he days between Cosette's letters, but now he would not receive any more letters. He had seen to that. He thought about getting rid of the letters she'd already sent him- after all, how was he supposed to heal when he had all the memories of their relationship stuffed away in his closet? But he could not do it. They were too precious, held too many important memories to get rid of. Instead, he simply put the box away and tried not to open it too frequently. Then, he laid down on his bed and tried to empty his mind of the image of Cosette sobbing.
While Cosette was healing, so was Marius. After the initial shock and pain of the ending, Marius had taken a few days to collect himself, and then tried to make himself move on. The wound still hurt- it was still hurting over a year later. But he managed to get another job that he enjoyed and that paid more money. He moved out of the one room apartment he rented, and began renting something somewhat larger. He made some friends, and frequently went out with them.
At times, he could go for hours on end without even thinking of her. He wouldn't even notice the pain. But whenever he went home and retired to bed, he would close his eyes and see her face, as though it was imprinted forever in his mind. He would never forget her, never escape from her hold on his heart. He would see her face, usually laughing. But he also had nightmares- he relived the pain of the morning when he left her- the words, the tears, the ache of loneliness.
He always regretted that morning, though he knew it had been the right decision. But it had given him more pain than anything he'd ever done- it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. But Marius he liked his new friends, who were intelligent and funny. They would go out to eat or to the theatre, and he always managed to have a good time. At least until one of them would ask him about women, for they always wanted to know why, at twenty-seven, he would never admit whether or not he'd ever been in love with a woman, or ever even been alone with one. But Marius couldn't talk about Cosette to them. He just couldn't reveal what they had together- it had been a secret for so long that talking about it now felt sacreligious. So he never revealed to them that he was, in fact, unable to see any women, because he was forever broken. Instead he just would not answer them.
So they kept suggesting women he should see, and he had to turn down every one for some reason or another. That was painful and tiring- but he couldn't tell them why he was so against seeing other women. But he just couldn't imagine, after what he'd been through with Cosette, trying to find someone else. He would find no one else. No one understood him the way she did, and aside from that he was terrified of girls.
He often wondered what she was doing- was she alright? Was her husband treating her right? And other times he just wanted to talk to her. He'd had the best conversations of his life with Cosette, and he missed being able to tell her anything and have her understand exactly what he meant.
He felt like he was dreamily floating through life- he had his ties, which were work and his friends, but his man reason for being alive was no longer there. He thought of Cosette so much that it was surprising to him when he would remember she was not a part of his life anymore. They'd discovered everything together, and essentially grown up together. He'd been through so much pain with her and so much happiness that her absence made him feel lost.
Still, time went on.
One day in May of 1837 and fifteen months after he'd ended things with Cosette, he was walking down the street during midday. It was sunny and warm, though now spring seemed sad to him. Cosette was spring, she'd always been spring. He'd fallen in love with her in late spring, spent all those wonderful hours with her in the spring of 1832... and she just acted like spring, with her dewy eyes and bright outlook. So he lost himself in the past for a day, which was not uncharacteristic of him. He bought himself a roll from a bakery and sat down on a bench to eat it, but then he saw a street vendor was selling newspapers. He hadn't read the news in three days, so he bought a copy and sat down to read.
He perused through political stories, and interest stories, and then just starting paging through articles, until he landed on this:
On May 16, 1837, Captain LaFontau of Paris, France, perished during storms in the English Channel. Three of his crew members also perished when the ship was overrun with water, and four more remain missing. Captain LaFontau leaves behind a bereaved wife and son. The funeral is today at 4 o'clock at St. James' Church.
Marius read and reread the obituary about fourteen times before he realized what it meant: Cosette's husband was dead.
He checked his watch- it was almost three forty-five. He looked down at his clothes- he was wearing black and was in his good suit, with his boots shined. Without thinking again, he began sprinting. If he ran, he could possibly make it. He didn't even know what he was doing, but he knew he had to go.
Thoughts?