DISCLAIMER : I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS .... BUT I AM SLOWLY GETTING TO KNOW REAL LIFE GRACE'S AND DIMITRI'S (IF ANYTHING YOU READ SEEMS FAMILIAR YES IT IS YOU AND AREN'T YOU GLAD I DIDN'T MENTION NAMES :)
REVIEWS: PLEASE DO...BUT HEAVEN FORBID NOTHING POSITIVE, RIGHT? ACTUALLY WHATEVER YOUR FEELING USE IT. AHH MAN...MWAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- I FORGET SOMETIMES HOW VERY VERY MUCH I LOVE MR. DIMITRI...WHEN HE FOLLOWED GRACE OUTSIDE IN DTotR- WAILLLLLLLLLLL. THEN I GUESS YOU COULD ARGUE, "Better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all." ST. AUGUSTINE ; )
CHAPTER NOTE: I always used to think I was above people who devoted more than cursory thought to fictional characters and "celebrities". I was judgmental, condenscending and I have been punished. The blow that was dealt me was cruel but I would not have it taken back for anything. I was slapped in the face and left to watch all that I hold dear and sacred fade away and end just when I had found it. I know what it is to hurt and to be alone---and as the author of this story at least I have a choice. I would never leave these characters that way- alone. But you knew that :D (that may be the saddest Dimitri smile you ever see...if you've seen Vanilla Sky "the saddest girl ever to hold a Martini"...I know that girl). On a more cheerful note, mwoohaha enjoy and REVIEW!!!!! Musical inspirations ( of course there are some from this avid music connoisseur): Gutterflower (The goo goo dolls.. once and again!), The Graduate and Paul Simon who makes me think. With a wink and a promise I say don't worry the wedding song will be Ella Fitzgerald.. one day, someday, in dreams.
EMAIL; jeanl2@sympatico.ca
"Tell me who admires and loves you,
And I will tell you who you are."
CHARLES AUGUSTINE SAINT-BEUVE
FIVE HUNDRED MILES
He drove away. Forcefully he looked ahead concentrating on his destination. Pull away, don't hit a garbage bin or the curb. A lithe gray squirrel holding a nut like a precious treasure ran along the pavement towards a tree. Run run hide it from the world. Above all else don't look back. But he knew she wouldn't be crying because he knew Grace. Maybe that was why he couldn't take a last look. He wanted her to be crying. He wanted her to feel something. Somewhere deep within he wanted her to stop him and he knew it. There were feelings of guilt over that. Over and over thoughts that wouldn't stop. What have I done?. Over and over endless and ever like an offkey song that never ends. If he could just bellow "Stop the music" and end the song. Return to the peace of the sounds of silence. A time before this all started. Of course there had been pain before Grace and there would be pain to come. But not the same. What had preoccupied all that silence before Grace came along and why did it all seem trivial now. Unimportant. What if one day this seemed unimportant too. He was a fraud, a liar, an actor. But he was never the leading man, no it was a role that never lasted for him. He seemed to fit somewhere else in a place yet undiscovered. He had a category of his own creation. Maybe he would always be fifth business. The catalyst that caused others the react yet never being allowed to react himself. Never claiming the attention or the spotlight. A life in shadows waiting for the role that would fit and lift him above. Reveal the man hidden inside that he secretly hoped and believed was there - but didn't know. Not with any certainty. He needed Grace to lift the curtain and he realized that, but he was still scared what might be behind it all.
~*********************************~
"Can we go back home now," Grace said drained and sliding into the passenger seat of the Celica. "Please."
"Grace we need to talk about this."
"Why. I mean I don't see the point. He's gone now which is what everyone wanted--"
"That was him?", Judy asked tentatively.
"That was Mr.Dimitri ", Grace said assured, feigning confidence she really didn't have.
There was an odd pain associated with just saying his name like that. He had become her lover, her friend as August- yet at the same time it would always be right to call him Mr. Dimitri too. She had called him that for so long, and the memories of that time predominantly happy. Only in retrospect could she realize they were happy times. He belonged to the name Mr. Dimitri. He belonged to her in that way, in a way August didn't yet. That was the real fear it could be acknowledged, not that he might not come back but that if and when he did he would no longer be Mr.Dimitri but a stranger. She used it this time in anger, bitter irony at the position and respect that name held, but that wasn't the whole reason why.
"Grace are you ok, I mean I know it's personal obviously and your business but --"
"But?"
"Does your mother know that you've been seeing him? That things were, I mean are --like that --"
"What is 'like that'
"You know."
"No she doesn't. And I could ask you not to tell her but it doesn't matter now. If he's not here it can't hurt his career right now - he's removed from that. He removed himself. "
"You know what she thinks about this , don't you."
"That it's wrong. I know. And in all respect Judy. Or actually wait-- in truth, she's wrong. "
"Grace I can understand the attraction to power. I mean the student teacher forbidden fruit thing is [pause] ..but ---"
"It wasn't like that."
"Ok. If you ask me not to tell her I can keep that promise."
"I wouldn't ask you to do that."
"What about him? I mean --"
"August? August is about truth."
"So are you-- keeping in contact or --"
"I'd just like to go home ok."
"Grace I am the last person that world to give you advice about this, but if you aren't talking to anyone else- your mother. I mean I know you're smart. But did anything ever-- Did you --"
"Did I what!"
"I know how complex relationships are and Grace this, I mean [smiling] is your first ,you know. I'm not passing judgement but if you did is it ---"
"Of course we used protection. It's ok, really. Just can we--"
"Yeah. Let's go."
~*********************************~
Alone in bed with eyes closed. The cd player turned and the Goo Goo Dolls song "Sympathy" played. As if you cry for goo goo dolls, God had it come to that in the end.....
"It's hard to lead the life you choose
All I wanted
When all your luck's run out on you
All I wanted
You can't see when all your dreams are coming true
Oh yeah it's easy to forget yeah
You choke on the regrets yeah
Who the hell did I think I was
Stranger than your sympathy
All these thoughts you stole from me
I'm not sure where I belong
Nowhere's home and I'm all wrong
And I wasn't all the things
I tried to make believe I was
And wouldn't I be the one to kneel
Before the dreams I wanted
And all the talk and all the lies
Were all the empty things disguised as me..."
~********************************~
Grace held August's keys in her hand and stretching forward the key fit to perfection in the lock. A simple turn and the door opened. She had come every weekend since the day he had left. It had taken weeks to get over the initial resentment and pain. That he would do that. Could do that. What did it say about him. She had given her whole heart and her body to him and he had left her. But she came to realize he had not left her. He had left them. The them of that time, that moment and that was different somehow. It had not been an abandonment in the tradional sense-- it had been a choice. A choice between the present and the future. She fought against the very remoteness that it had been right. She lost the battle. He had been right, although there was still some reserve in that sentiment. He had chosen the future. To make an attempt at what could be instead of settling for the beaten road. The path they were on was paved with good intentions and construction and traffic control officers. By leaving her August had in fact taken her hand and forcefully lead her off that asphalt road.
There was no reason to come every weekend she soon told herself. The neighbourhood was decent and safe, no risk of burglary. Not that August had much worth taking. Unique items of sentimental value mostly. Maybe his computer and stereo system she mused. Or his book of poems but that had already been taken. She watered the plants and laughed at August's gardening philosophy because in each of the plant potters she had found small lamenated cards with passages, quotes or original thoughts. The cards were then duck taped to toothpicks and stuck in the fertilized soil. That had been a surprise. There was no one else like him certainly. The Hyacinth plant bore the legend "Richard- may he keep up appearances". She had laughed out loud when she discovered that. She knew August was an avid follower of british sitcoms and the "Keeping Up Appearances" reference in all it's meaningful connotations was hillarious. Bold, ambitious and absolutely August. He had the touch though with plants. Definitely a green thumb. Actually a whole green vibe in general. Grace looked through his closet once where his suits and shirts hung. The yellow tie he had not bothered to pack was on the back of an arm chair in the bedroom. Would he miss that if it were no longer there when he returned? If it found a new home somewhere else.
On the fridge she varied the message displayed by the poetry magnets. But predominately the words always came back to the same endless message. If he were to come home suddenly.... but she knew that wasn't happening anytime soon. He had said he wouldn't write or call.
~*********************************~
In the back row of her senior english class Grace was writing. If there was an exception to every rule this day was hers. Clear concise words sprang to mind and stabbed the page. Words that had the power to draw blood. To needle where it was still tender to the very vein of unspoken thoughts. She hesistated a moment to push a piece of loose hair behind her ear.
"Grace."
She looked up to the seat ahead of her were Ajay had turned her way.
"Are you auditioning for the play. It was posted that first auditions are tonight."
"Why would you even ask that. Of course I am." [she lowered her voice more noticing the teacher look up at the desk]
"I just wondered."
"Don't. Don't wonder. I mean , at all. "
~********************************~
Beautiful heartbreaking singing. And the spotlight on the stage struck amber hair. Poignant and incredibly real.
"April ~~come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain
There she will stay
Resting in my arms again
June ~~she'll change her tune
In restless walks she'll prowl the night
July ~~she will fly
And give no warning to her flight
August ~~die she will
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold.
September ~~I'll remember
A love once new has grown old."
~******************************~
In a darkened theatre filled with hushed voices, sarcasm and gossip....
"Mr. Dimitri?"
"Yes, Carol."
"I thought I lost you for a minute."
"No. No . To do that it would have to mean I was with you at some point earlier and I'm not sure I have been tonight. My apologies , please continue."
"So I'm thinking -- Ann. She was heads above the rest of the auditions. Her voice projection, sense of character, in fact she would be perfect for this."
Dimitri's head shot up. Shot through the heart.
[Angry] "Perfect?"
~*******************************~
"Grace there's a package here for you. It's from the University of Santa Barbara. You didn't apply there did you?" Lily asked excitement barely contained.
"I don't think so."
Lily's excitement does not go unheard or unreturned. But Lily doesn't quite get that. Grace takes the package and looks at it. Her heart skips a beat because it couldn't be. Grace walked out of the room and into the living room without anything further.
There was no way it could be. It was useless to raise hope. It was something she had always been denied and had been told by many in her life was not for her. To hope. The tape was not coming off fast enough. To look for scissors or continue fighting with this package? The scissors were in the kitchen , and the package seemed ready to give a little. It was paper. Printed pages. Nothing hand written not even a post it note. Hope is for the hopeless, either you have something or you don't.
"And I'm the type that does ever have anything. Not really."
She removed the pages from the envelope. It has a cover page which she gave a quick glance before turning over. Of course that's was it. He was a teacher and to push him into any other role had been futile. A useless exercise. That was the cruelty, that yes everything had meaning but then the double edged sword of it being that in the same breath everything means something different to each person. There is no such thing as one universal truth. Rashmon. Even though she had thought they were like in mind and in the cardiac of the heart maybe that was true. But not true enough. Having what you thought was the same point of view with someone is possible. But only as a thought because in reality it's an impossibility. He was a teacher that was how he saw himself. Evidently always would be , her teacher. And for her? Always as the hero. Be it a hero you despise for his morals and goodness, or one you love for those very qualities. A hero can be a teacher. And a teacher can be a hero. But the teacher never accepts he is the hero. Obviously he wanted her to read this. It was the first attempt at any kind of contact he had made. At least it was something. And if he wanted to return to the past, loving him she had no choice. He was labouring with the oars of the boat and she didn't have the strengh to either help him or protest the direction they were going anymore. The pages turned rapidly in a fanning motion as she considered the volume of the work. Four acts and an epilogue. There were notations in the margins. Directions but not for her she thought. The last pages writing in blue ink stood out. She lost the end page for a moment and moved her finger to bring it back.
"The true beloveds of this world are in their lover's eyes lilacs opening, ship lights, school bells, a landscape, remembered conversations, friends, a child's Sunday, lost voices, one's favorite suit, autumn and all seasons, memory, yes, it being the earth and water of existence, memory. "
Other Voices, Other Rooms, 1948
TRUMAN CAPOTE
Have you ever heard Bobby Darin, "By the Sea"? In my thoughts she stays. And the she is always you.
Missing August?
Goo goo dolls - truth is a whisper~~
"You know all I am
Feel this moment in you
You know all I am
Can you teach me to believe in something
Sometimes you choke on the smell
Just to breathe
I need to question what I need
Rhythm of silence
That beats through your mind
Still you forget what you deny...
Who's the one you answer to
Do you listen when he speaks
Or is everything for you
And do you find it hard to sleep
Or is it easy on your own
Will you ever find some peace
Before you're gone"
REVIEWS: PLEASE DO...BUT HEAVEN FORBID NOTHING POSITIVE, RIGHT? ACTUALLY WHATEVER YOUR FEELING USE IT. AHH MAN...MWAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- I FORGET SOMETIMES HOW VERY VERY MUCH I LOVE MR. DIMITRI...WHEN HE FOLLOWED GRACE OUTSIDE IN DTotR- WAILLLLLLLLLLL. THEN I GUESS YOU COULD ARGUE, "Better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all." ST. AUGUSTINE ; )
CHAPTER NOTE: I always used to think I was above people who devoted more than cursory thought to fictional characters and "celebrities". I was judgmental, condenscending and I have been punished. The blow that was dealt me was cruel but I would not have it taken back for anything. I was slapped in the face and left to watch all that I hold dear and sacred fade away and end just when I had found it. I know what it is to hurt and to be alone---and as the author of this story at least I have a choice. I would never leave these characters that way- alone. But you knew that :D (that may be the saddest Dimitri smile you ever see...if you've seen Vanilla Sky "the saddest girl ever to hold a Martini"...I know that girl). On a more cheerful note, mwoohaha enjoy and REVIEW!!!!! Musical inspirations ( of course there are some from this avid music connoisseur): Gutterflower (The goo goo dolls.. once and again!), The Graduate and Paul Simon who makes me think. With a wink and a promise I say don't worry the wedding song will be Ella Fitzgerald.. one day, someday, in dreams.
EMAIL; jeanl2@sympatico.ca
"Tell me who admires and loves you,
And I will tell you who you are."
CHARLES AUGUSTINE SAINT-BEUVE
FIVE HUNDRED MILES
He drove away. Forcefully he looked ahead concentrating on his destination. Pull away, don't hit a garbage bin or the curb. A lithe gray squirrel holding a nut like a precious treasure ran along the pavement towards a tree. Run run hide it from the world. Above all else don't look back. But he knew she wouldn't be crying because he knew Grace. Maybe that was why he couldn't take a last look. He wanted her to be crying. He wanted her to feel something. Somewhere deep within he wanted her to stop him and he knew it. There were feelings of guilt over that. Over and over thoughts that wouldn't stop. What have I done?. Over and over endless and ever like an offkey song that never ends. If he could just bellow "Stop the music" and end the song. Return to the peace of the sounds of silence. A time before this all started. Of course there had been pain before Grace and there would be pain to come. But not the same. What had preoccupied all that silence before Grace came along and why did it all seem trivial now. Unimportant. What if one day this seemed unimportant too. He was a fraud, a liar, an actor. But he was never the leading man, no it was a role that never lasted for him. He seemed to fit somewhere else in a place yet undiscovered. He had a category of his own creation. Maybe he would always be fifth business. The catalyst that caused others the react yet never being allowed to react himself. Never claiming the attention or the spotlight. A life in shadows waiting for the role that would fit and lift him above. Reveal the man hidden inside that he secretly hoped and believed was there - but didn't know. Not with any certainty. He needed Grace to lift the curtain and he realized that, but he was still scared what might be behind it all.
~*********************************~
"Can we go back home now," Grace said drained and sliding into the passenger seat of the Celica. "Please."
"Grace we need to talk about this."
"Why. I mean I don't see the point. He's gone now which is what everyone wanted--"
"That was him?", Judy asked tentatively.
"That was Mr.Dimitri ", Grace said assured, feigning confidence she really didn't have.
There was an odd pain associated with just saying his name like that. He had become her lover, her friend as August- yet at the same time it would always be right to call him Mr. Dimitri too. She had called him that for so long, and the memories of that time predominantly happy. Only in retrospect could she realize they were happy times. He belonged to the name Mr. Dimitri. He belonged to her in that way, in a way August didn't yet. That was the real fear it could be acknowledged, not that he might not come back but that if and when he did he would no longer be Mr.Dimitri but a stranger. She used it this time in anger, bitter irony at the position and respect that name held, but that wasn't the whole reason why.
"Grace are you ok, I mean I know it's personal obviously and your business but --"
"But?"
"Does your mother know that you've been seeing him? That things were, I mean are --like that --"
"What is 'like that'
"You know."
"No she doesn't. And I could ask you not to tell her but it doesn't matter now. If he's not here it can't hurt his career right now - he's removed from that. He removed himself. "
"You know what she thinks about this , don't you."
"That it's wrong. I know. And in all respect Judy. Or actually wait-- in truth, she's wrong. "
"Grace I can understand the attraction to power. I mean the student teacher forbidden fruit thing is [pause] ..but ---"
"It wasn't like that."
"Ok. If you ask me not to tell her I can keep that promise."
"I wouldn't ask you to do that."
"What about him? I mean --"
"August? August is about truth."
"So are you-- keeping in contact or --"
"I'd just like to go home ok."
"Grace I am the last person that world to give you advice about this, but if you aren't talking to anyone else- your mother. I mean I know you're smart. But did anything ever-- Did you --"
"Did I what!"
"I know how complex relationships are and Grace this, I mean [smiling] is your first ,you know. I'm not passing judgement but if you did is it ---"
"Of course we used protection. It's ok, really. Just can we--"
"Yeah. Let's go."
~*********************************~
Alone in bed with eyes closed. The cd player turned and the Goo Goo Dolls song "Sympathy" played. As if you cry for goo goo dolls, God had it come to that in the end.....
"It's hard to lead the life you choose
All I wanted
When all your luck's run out on you
All I wanted
You can't see when all your dreams are coming true
Oh yeah it's easy to forget yeah
You choke on the regrets yeah
Who the hell did I think I was
Stranger than your sympathy
All these thoughts you stole from me
I'm not sure where I belong
Nowhere's home and I'm all wrong
And I wasn't all the things
I tried to make believe I was
And wouldn't I be the one to kneel
Before the dreams I wanted
And all the talk and all the lies
Were all the empty things disguised as me..."
~********************************~
Grace held August's keys in her hand and stretching forward the key fit to perfection in the lock. A simple turn and the door opened. She had come every weekend since the day he had left. It had taken weeks to get over the initial resentment and pain. That he would do that. Could do that. What did it say about him. She had given her whole heart and her body to him and he had left her. But she came to realize he had not left her. He had left them. The them of that time, that moment and that was different somehow. It had not been an abandonment in the tradional sense-- it had been a choice. A choice between the present and the future. She fought against the very remoteness that it had been right. She lost the battle. He had been right, although there was still some reserve in that sentiment. He had chosen the future. To make an attempt at what could be instead of settling for the beaten road. The path they were on was paved with good intentions and construction and traffic control officers. By leaving her August had in fact taken her hand and forcefully lead her off that asphalt road.
There was no reason to come every weekend she soon told herself. The neighbourhood was decent and safe, no risk of burglary. Not that August had much worth taking. Unique items of sentimental value mostly. Maybe his computer and stereo system she mused. Or his book of poems but that had already been taken. She watered the plants and laughed at August's gardening philosophy because in each of the plant potters she had found small lamenated cards with passages, quotes or original thoughts. The cards were then duck taped to toothpicks and stuck in the fertilized soil. That had been a surprise. There was no one else like him certainly. The Hyacinth plant bore the legend "Richard- may he keep up appearances". She had laughed out loud when she discovered that. She knew August was an avid follower of british sitcoms and the "Keeping Up Appearances" reference in all it's meaningful connotations was hillarious. Bold, ambitious and absolutely August. He had the touch though with plants. Definitely a green thumb. Actually a whole green vibe in general. Grace looked through his closet once where his suits and shirts hung. The yellow tie he had not bothered to pack was on the back of an arm chair in the bedroom. Would he miss that if it were no longer there when he returned? If it found a new home somewhere else.
On the fridge she varied the message displayed by the poetry magnets. But predominately the words always came back to the same endless message. If he were to come home suddenly.... but she knew that wasn't happening anytime soon. He had said he wouldn't write or call.
~*********************************~
In the back row of her senior english class Grace was writing. If there was an exception to every rule this day was hers. Clear concise words sprang to mind and stabbed the page. Words that had the power to draw blood. To needle where it was still tender to the very vein of unspoken thoughts. She hesistated a moment to push a piece of loose hair behind her ear.
"Grace."
She looked up to the seat ahead of her were Ajay had turned her way.
"Are you auditioning for the play. It was posted that first auditions are tonight."
"Why would you even ask that. Of course I am." [she lowered her voice more noticing the teacher look up at the desk]
"I just wondered."
"Don't. Don't wonder. I mean , at all. "
~********************************~
Beautiful heartbreaking singing. And the spotlight on the stage struck amber hair. Poignant and incredibly real.
"April ~~come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain
There she will stay
Resting in my arms again
June ~~she'll change her tune
In restless walks she'll prowl the night
July ~~she will fly
And give no warning to her flight
August ~~die she will
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold.
September ~~I'll remember
A love once new has grown old."
~******************************~
In a darkened theatre filled with hushed voices, sarcasm and gossip....
"Mr. Dimitri?"
"Yes, Carol."
"I thought I lost you for a minute."
"No. No . To do that it would have to mean I was with you at some point earlier and I'm not sure I have been tonight. My apologies , please continue."
"So I'm thinking -- Ann. She was heads above the rest of the auditions. Her voice projection, sense of character, in fact she would be perfect for this."
Dimitri's head shot up. Shot through the heart.
[Angry] "Perfect?"
~*******************************~
"Grace there's a package here for you. It's from the University of Santa Barbara. You didn't apply there did you?" Lily asked excitement barely contained.
"I don't think so."
Lily's excitement does not go unheard or unreturned. But Lily doesn't quite get that. Grace takes the package and looks at it. Her heart skips a beat because it couldn't be. Grace walked out of the room and into the living room without anything further.
There was no way it could be. It was useless to raise hope. It was something she had always been denied and had been told by many in her life was not for her. To hope. The tape was not coming off fast enough. To look for scissors or continue fighting with this package? The scissors were in the kitchen , and the package seemed ready to give a little. It was paper. Printed pages. Nothing hand written not even a post it note. Hope is for the hopeless, either you have something or you don't.
"And I'm the type that does ever have anything. Not really."
She removed the pages from the envelope. It has a cover page which she gave a quick glance before turning over. Of course that's was it. He was a teacher and to push him into any other role had been futile. A useless exercise. That was the cruelty, that yes everything had meaning but then the double edged sword of it being that in the same breath everything means something different to each person. There is no such thing as one universal truth. Rashmon. Even though she had thought they were like in mind and in the cardiac of the heart maybe that was true. But not true enough. Having what you thought was the same point of view with someone is possible. But only as a thought because in reality it's an impossibility. He was a teacher that was how he saw himself. Evidently always would be , her teacher. And for her? Always as the hero. Be it a hero you despise for his morals and goodness, or one you love for those very qualities. A hero can be a teacher. And a teacher can be a hero. But the teacher never accepts he is the hero. Obviously he wanted her to read this. It was the first attempt at any kind of contact he had made. At least it was something. And if he wanted to return to the past, loving him she had no choice. He was labouring with the oars of the boat and she didn't have the strengh to either help him or protest the direction they were going anymore. The pages turned rapidly in a fanning motion as she considered the volume of the work. Four acts and an epilogue. There were notations in the margins. Directions but not for her she thought. The last pages writing in blue ink stood out. She lost the end page for a moment and moved her finger to bring it back.
"The true beloveds of this world are in their lover's eyes lilacs opening, ship lights, school bells, a landscape, remembered conversations, friends, a child's Sunday, lost voices, one's favorite suit, autumn and all seasons, memory, yes, it being the earth and water of existence, memory. "
Other Voices, Other Rooms, 1948
TRUMAN CAPOTE
Have you ever heard Bobby Darin, "By the Sea"? In my thoughts she stays. And the she is always you.
Missing August?
Goo goo dolls - truth is a whisper~~
"You know all I am
Feel this moment in you
You know all I am
Can you teach me to believe in something
Sometimes you choke on the smell
Just to breathe
I need to question what I need
Rhythm of silence
That beats through your mind
Still you forget what you deny...
Who's the one you answer to
Do you listen when he speaks
Or is everything for you
And do you find it hard to sleep
Or is it easy on your own
Will you ever find some peace
Before you're gone"