No one's posting much these days. Where has everyone gone?! : Anyways, so
I was at the lake and managed to write this, another Conversation, and
start another case file! I LOVE THE LAKE! If there's anyone out there still
reading J/S, here's my take on Samantha after that taxi ride home...
Decisions
She'd tried. It had, after all, made sense. He'd been there, he'd been willing, and he'd been able.
But not able enough. Not in the way that counted. Funny how a man - single, smart, good looking and amiable - could be so perfect and yet leave her emotionally cool as an autumn breeze.
And funny how another - married, older, and not always amiable - could make sparks fly and warm her heart just by entering the room and looking her way.
She'd loved that older man with a depth that had shaken her. He, she believed, had loved her in return. But he was married, had two children...and so eventually decisions were made that had ended their affair, if not the emotion that had led to it.
Now distance would also separate them, and she could feel herself floundering. For the first time in her life, she felt lost and alone. Forsaken. Deserted. So long as he had been there, working with her every day, she had been able to cope. Living on hope, some might have called it. But with him leaving, entirely new and unwelcome emotions were rising, and she felt afraid. Of being alone. Of being left behind.
Enter Martin. She had always been aware of him, been aware of his watching her, of his interest in her. Now, she began to look at him, too. Looked at him as someone who could help her forget what she'd had and was about to lose forever. A solid mass of reality she could hold on to, perhaps he could keep her from sinking into a heap of hurt and heartache.
So, in a blur of pain, she had asked him home, and he had said yes. (How could he have said no?) They had made love because he had been willing and she had been needy. And now, the morning after, she sat on the floor in the corner of her bedroom wondering what she had done to herself. And to him.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire...
She'd acted on impulse, acted in a time of need without thinking ahead. Now she wondered how she was going to live with the repercussions - there would be expectations now, expectations she knew were natural.
Expectations she wanted nothing to do with.
Looking at his sleeping form lying in her bed, she realised she didn't want to be the focus of Martin's attention. With Jack, she had had his love, but knew that he had other things that also called to him. It had eased the pressure on her, allowed her a breathing space, a sense of independence - and, in an odd way, gave their relationship special value. She knew that when he was with her it was because, though he had other things calling him, he chose her above them. That had had value. Assured her of her importance in his life.
With Martin, it was and would be different. He was a man who lived and played by the rules. A man who did the right thing for the right reasons. A man who did what was expected of him and who did not take risks. He had never pressed his interest in her. Had he not always held back and waited?
He was certainly not the sort to risk everything to begin an affair with a subordinate because he'd fallen in love with her.
He was not a man who, when he realised the repercussions of his actions would live in torment because he loved and shouldn't.
Martin, she was sure, would never have allowed himself to love in the first place. He would have shied away from it, denied it, ignored it. Told himself it was impossible and walked away.
She sat looking at the man she had shared the night with and felt helplessness creep over her. On the other hand, he was an honest man, and one who didn't deserve to be used as she had used him. He was straight as an arrow, as honest as daylight. She couldn't take his truth and twist it to suit her needs.
She sighed, sure that she couldn't do this. She couldn't live a lie, couldn't pretend she had left the past - and her feelings for Jack - behind. Closing her eyes in regret, she knew it was Jack's form she wished was lying here in her bedroom. It was Jack she wished, sensing he was being stared at, would awake and smile at her sleepily and ask her to come back to bed for a while longer. She shuddered at the thought of having his warmth against her again.
As though in response to her thoughts, Martin stirred. Opening her eyes, she watched as he stiffened, unsure of where he was. She watched as he remembered, watched as he discovered she was not beside him. He lifted his tousled head and looked around, his eyes quickly finding her.
She saw the light in his eyes, recognised what he was feeling as what she felt - would always feel? - for someone else. He smiled, and her heart sank.
Smothered, overwhelmed, and frightened by what her decision had done, she sat frozen, wondering what she should do. Everything hung in the balance of her decision.
She said she'd tried. Had she tried hard enough? Should she keep trying? Was that the answer? Could she turn herself into what Martin expected? Be happy, for however long, with his attention and affection?
Could she learn to love him the way she knew love could be?
Or should she tell him the truth: that this was a mistake, and she was sorry?
When he smiled at her and said, "Hey," she looked at her life, past present and future. Taking a deep breath, knowing that there would be regrets either way, she made her decision.
End
Decisions
She'd tried. It had, after all, made sense. He'd been there, he'd been willing, and he'd been able.
But not able enough. Not in the way that counted. Funny how a man - single, smart, good looking and amiable - could be so perfect and yet leave her emotionally cool as an autumn breeze.
And funny how another - married, older, and not always amiable - could make sparks fly and warm her heart just by entering the room and looking her way.
She'd loved that older man with a depth that had shaken her. He, she believed, had loved her in return. But he was married, had two children...and so eventually decisions were made that had ended their affair, if not the emotion that had led to it.
Now distance would also separate them, and she could feel herself floundering. For the first time in her life, she felt lost and alone. Forsaken. Deserted. So long as he had been there, working with her every day, she had been able to cope. Living on hope, some might have called it. But with him leaving, entirely new and unwelcome emotions were rising, and she felt afraid. Of being alone. Of being left behind.
Enter Martin. She had always been aware of him, been aware of his watching her, of his interest in her. Now, she began to look at him, too. Looked at him as someone who could help her forget what she'd had and was about to lose forever. A solid mass of reality she could hold on to, perhaps he could keep her from sinking into a heap of hurt and heartache.
So, in a blur of pain, she had asked him home, and he had said yes. (How could he have said no?) They had made love because he had been willing and she had been needy. And now, the morning after, she sat on the floor in the corner of her bedroom wondering what she had done to herself. And to him.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire...
She'd acted on impulse, acted in a time of need without thinking ahead. Now she wondered how she was going to live with the repercussions - there would be expectations now, expectations she knew were natural.
Expectations she wanted nothing to do with.
Looking at his sleeping form lying in her bed, she realised she didn't want to be the focus of Martin's attention. With Jack, she had had his love, but knew that he had other things that also called to him. It had eased the pressure on her, allowed her a breathing space, a sense of independence - and, in an odd way, gave their relationship special value. She knew that when he was with her it was because, though he had other things calling him, he chose her above them. That had had value. Assured her of her importance in his life.
With Martin, it was and would be different. He was a man who lived and played by the rules. A man who did the right thing for the right reasons. A man who did what was expected of him and who did not take risks. He had never pressed his interest in her. Had he not always held back and waited?
He was certainly not the sort to risk everything to begin an affair with a subordinate because he'd fallen in love with her.
He was not a man who, when he realised the repercussions of his actions would live in torment because he loved and shouldn't.
Martin, she was sure, would never have allowed himself to love in the first place. He would have shied away from it, denied it, ignored it. Told himself it was impossible and walked away.
She sat looking at the man she had shared the night with and felt helplessness creep over her. On the other hand, he was an honest man, and one who didn't deserve to be used as she had used him. He was straight as an arrow, as honest as daylight. She couldn't take his truth and twist it to suit her needs.
She sighed, sure that she couldn't do this. She couldn't live a lie, couldn't pretend she had left the past - and her feelings for Jack - behind. Closing her eyes in regret, she knew it was Jack's form she wished was lying here in her bedroom. It was Jack she wished, sensing he was being stared at, would awake and smile at her sleepily and ask her to come back to bed for a while longer. She shuddered at the thought of having his warmth against her again.
As though in response to her thoughts, Martin stirred. Opening her eyes, she watched as he stiffened, unsure of where he was. She watched as he remembered, watched as he discovered she was not beside him. He lifted his tousled head and looked around, his eyes quickly finding her.
She saw the light in his eyes, recognised what he was feeling as what she felt - would always feel? - for someone else. He smiled, and her heart sank.
Smothered, overwhelmed, and frightened by what her decision had done, she sat frozen, wondering what she should do. Everything hung in the balance of her decision.
She said she'd tried. Had she tried hard enough? Should she keep trying? Was that the answer? Could she turn herself into what Martin expected? Be happy, for however long, with his attention and affection?
Could she learn to love him the way she knew love could be?
Or should she tell him the truth: that this was a mistake, and she was sorry?
When he smiled at her and said, "Hey," she looked at her life, past present and future. Taking a deep breath, knowing that there would be regrets either way, she made her decision.
End