When She Cries
Chapter 3 - Fantasies and Fears
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No one knows my Lady when she's lonely.
No one sees the fantasies and fears my Lady hides.
There are those who've shared her love and laughter
But no one hears my Lady when she cries, but me.
No one hears my Lady when she cries.
---------------------
Gil left Lady Heather's house on that Sunday afternoon without the feeling of fulfillment he had hoped to find there. What he felt as he drove away was the same longing he had felt before.
He attempted to make sense of it, but he could not find a rational explanation for his attraction to Lady Heather. It made no sense at all; they were so different. The very concept of a relationship between them was laughable.
Concentration on his work was becoming more difficult for Gil. His usual sharp attentiveness was disrupted by moments of distraction as thoughts of Lady Heather took over his mind. He would let them linger briefly until he remembered where he was, and then he would shake them off and try to get his mind back on what he was doing. The change in Gil did not go unnoticed.
"Is something wrong?" asked Catherine on Wednesday night. "You seem kind of out of it."
"I'm perfectly fine," he assured her.
"Well you haven't been acting fine. You've been like this since Monday." She paused. Looking at her face, Gil could see that she had made a connection. Catherine, of course, did not voice her suspicions directly.
"How did your date go on Sunday?"
The first time Catherine had called it a date, Gil had corrected her. Now he let it slide. "Just fine," he said. "In fact, she invited me back this Saturday."
"Glad to hear it went well," said Catherine. It was clear to Gil that she was concerned, which irritated him slightly. It was, after all, his personal life, and none of her concern. However, he did not want to discuss the matter any further, and he was somewhat relieved when Catherine left.
On Sunday morning, as Gil tried to get some sleep after a long night of work, he had a dream. The world around him was black. From some point off in the distance came a white glow. There was a shadowy figure standing in the center. He moved toward the light, and he could make out the figure standing within it. It was Lady Heather. She was wearing the dark plum dress she had worn when he last saw her, and her crimson lips formed a serene smile.
He reached out his hand, but a cold barrier, like an invisible pane of glass, held it back. He wanted to touch her. He could not. But she lifted her hand and held it out, so close to his that he could feel its warmth. And that was enough…
It vanished in an instant, and Gil found himself back in his bed, with daylight creeping in from behind the closed curtains.
"What's the matter with you?" he thought. "This is completely wrong. People like you don't have dreams like that."
He dismissed the vision. He assured himself that it was only a dream, and nothing more. But it had been so vivid. He had actually felt her hand next to his, though the warmth had disappeared along with the rest of the dream. Still, he refused to accept it as anything more than a random string of subconscious images. He attempted to put it out of his mind, and eventually he managed to go back to sleep.
Under the glare of the afternoon sun, Gil once again approached the door of Lady Heather's mansion. He rang the doorbell, and when she opened the door, he immediately became concerned.
Her face was reddened and streaked with tears. It was obvious that she had been crying. She smiled, trying to hide her distress, but it was no use.
"Heather, what's wrong?"
"Nothing really," she said, her voice trembling. "Please come in."
Gil followed her to the living room. "I haven't started the tea yet. I didn't expect you this early."
Gil was much less concerned with the tea than he was with Lady Heather's current emotional state. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"
Lady Heather sat down on the red velvet sofa. She curled into a fetal position, her knees against her chest, her black skirt draped loosely over her slender legs.
"I have these moments sometimes," she explained. Gil sat on the sofa next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean… sometimes I just cry. It usually happens when I have a lot of stress in my life. But sometimes, it just happens for no reason at all. I wake up in the morning with a feeling of sadness, and I just can't shake it. I don't really understand why."
"Have you seen anyone about it?" asked Gil.
"You mean doctors? Oh, yes. Ever since I was a teenager. They all wanted me to take pills. But the drugs made me ill, so I stopped taking them. I went into counseling. That helped. I'm all right now, except for days like this." She dried her eyes with her sleeve. "They don't happen as often as they used to."
He moved his hand from her back and lay his arm around her shoulder. He placed his other hand on her arm and slowly slid it down until his fingers rested upon hers. She allowed him to take her in his arms, laying her head upon his chest. For a moment, Lady Heather was not strong. She was injured, vulnerable. For a moment, she placed every ounce of her trust in him.
"I'm glad you're here, Gil," she said. After that, neither spoke. Gil leaned against the velvet cushion and closed his eyes, feeling the weight of her body against his, and fell into the most peaceful sleep he had had in a long time.
---------------------
And when she cries, she makes you want to run
And chase the stars and bring them back
To brighten up a corner of her dark and troubled skies
When she cries.
---------------------
Chapter 3 - Fantasies and Fears
---------------------
No one knows my Lady when she's lonely.
No one sees the fantasies and fears my Lady hides.
There are those who've shared her love and laughter
But no one hears my Lady when she cries, but me.
No one hears my Lady when she cries.
---------------------
Gil left Lady Heather's house on that Sunday afternoon without the feeling of fulfillment he had hoped to find there. What he felt as he drove away was the same longing he had felt before.
He attempted to make sense of it, but he could not find a rational explanation for his attraction to Lady Heather. It made no sense at all; they were so different. The very concept of a relationship between them was laughable.
Concentration on his work was becoming more difficult for Gil. His usual sharp attentiveness was disrupted by moments of distraction as thoughts of Lady Heather took over his mind. He would let them linger briefly until he remembered where he was, and then he would shake them off and try to get his mind back on what he was doing. The change in Gil did not go unnoticed.
"Is something wrong?" asked Catherine on Wednesday night. "You seem kind of out of it."
"I'm perfectly fine," he assured her.
"Well you haven't been acting fine. You've been like this since Monday." She paused. Looking at her face, Gil could see that she had made a connection. Catherine, of course, did not voice her suspicions directly.
"How did your date go on Sunday?"
The first time Catherine had called it a date, Gil had corrected her. Now he let it slide. "Just fine," he said. "In fact, she invited me back this Saturday."
"Glad to hear it went well," said Catherine. It was clear to Gil that she was concerned, which irritated him slightly. It was, after all, his personal life, and none of her concern. However, he did not want to discuss the matter any further, and he was somewhat relieved when Catherine left.
On Sunday morning, as Gil tried to get some sleep after a long night of work, he had a dream. The world around him was black. From some point off in the distance came a white glow. There was a shadowy figure standing in the center. He moved toward the light, and he could make out the figure standing within it. It was Lady Heather. She was wearing the dark plum dress she had worn when he last saw her, and her crimson lips formed a serene smile.
He reached out his hand, but a cold barrier, like an invisible pane of glass, held it back. He wanted to touch her. He could not. But she lifted her hand and held it out, so close to his that he could feel its warmth. And that was enough…
It vanished in an instant, and Gil found himself back in his bed, with daylight creeping in from behind the closed curtains.
"What's the matter with you?" he thought. "This is completely wrong. People like you don't have dreams like that."
He dismissed the vision. He assured himself that it was only a dream, and nothing more. But it had been so vivid. He had actually felt her hand next to his, though the warmth had disappeared along with the rest of the dream. Still, he refused to accept it as anything more than a random string of subconscious images. He attempted to put it out of his mind, and eventually he managed to go back to sleep.
Under the glare of the afternoon sun, Gil once again approached the door of Lady Heather's mansion. He rang the doorbell, and when she opened the door, he immediately became concerned.
Her face was reddened and streaked with tears. It was obvious that she had been crying. She smiled, trying to hide her distress, but it was no use.
"Heather, what's wrong?"
"Nothing really," she said, her voice trembling. "Please come in."
Gil followed her to the living room. "I haven't started the tea yet. I didn't expect you this early."
Gil was much less concerned with the tea than he was with Lady Heather's current emotional state. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"
Lady Heather sat down on the red velvet sofa. She curled into a fetal position, her knees against her chest, her black skirt draped loosely over her slender legs.
"I have these moments sometimes," she explained. Gil sat on the sofa next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean… sometimes I just cry. It usually happens when I have a lot of stress in my life. But sometimes, it just happens for no reason at all. I wake up in the morning with a feeling of sadness, and I just can't shake it. I don't really understand why."
"Have you seen anyone about it?" asked Gil.
"You mean doctors? Oh, yes. Ever since I was a teenager. They all wanted me to take pills. But the drugs made me ill, so I stopped taking them. I went into counseling. That helped. I'm all right now, except for days like this." She dried her eyes with her sleeve. "They don't happen as often as they used to."
He moved his hand from her back and lay his arm around her shoulder. He placed his other hand on her arm and slowly slid it down until his fingers rested upon hers. She allowed him to take her in his arms, laying her head upon his chest. For a moment, Lady Heather was not strong. She was injured, vulnerable. For a moment, she placed every ounce of her trust in him.
"I'm glad you're here, Gil," she said. After that, neither spoke. Gil leaned against the velvet cushion and closed his eyes, feeling the weight of her body against his, and fell into the most peaceful sleep he had had in a long time.
---------------------
And when she cries, she makes you want to run
And chase the stars and bring them back
To brighten up a corner of her dark and troubled skies
When she cries.
---------------------