NOW
This was new. She was new. She was different. He leaned a little closer, and kissed the mendhi, delicately, so soft she can barely feel it, feel his lips on the flower below her knuckle, but it's enough to make her sigh, and arch her back, and wonder how she'd held out until now.
TWO WEEKS AGO
"I bought it." Pete announced, proudly, standing in front of the little house with the white picket fence (white picket fence? Where was she, cliché land?)
"You did?" she asked, swallowing.
"Yeah. Come in, have a look. It's all ours." Pete said, opening the gate, and bounding up in the path, in his excited little boy way, that she found so adorable. She paused at the gate, unsure for a moment, then followed him so slowly.
"See? I know it's small, but so cute. And look, isn't the kitchen great? All the fittings. And the curtains and carpets come with them, but we can change them if you like. Do you like?" he asked, leading her from room to room. He was so eager, but so anxious she should like it, and approve, approve of the house and him. She smiled, gently. The house was cute. And adorable. Little garden. Stained glass around the front door. A kitchen that while small, was practical. It even had gingham curtains. The bedroom was airy, and had a window that overlooked the back garden, and a cherry tree in full blossom. It was everything she'd ever dreamed of coming to, as a bride.
She hated it.
This wasn't her. She wasn't gingham curtains and white picket fences. She'd thought she was, but now she actually had them, she hated them.
But Pete was so excited. And she was marrying him. He'd made huge changes for her. So she could learn to like cherry trees outside her window, and a practical little kitchen.
"I love it." she said, and he kissed her delightedly. And when she closed her eyes to kiss him, she forgot the house, and just thought of the man she was kissing.
NOW
If she'd known the effect the mendhi would have, she'd have had it painted all up her arm, towards her lips. He was kissing her hand, a subtle little kiss for every twist in the pattern, and it was driving her crazy. He glanced up at her, grinning wickedly, knowing the effect he was having, then stroking the mendhi pattern once more, he began, finally, to kiss her way up her arm, pushing aside the sheet as he did so. She watched him, fascinated.
ONE WEEK AGO
So, ok, this wasn't too bad. He'd had worse dates. Ok, he hadn't had a date in a very long time, but he could still remember how awkward and disappointing they could be. But this was his third date with Kerry, and he was enjoying it. They were at a jazz festival, an open air one, and it was thronged with people. Around the ages of the park, there were stalls, selling food and silver jewellery. There was a bar, and kids play area, and everyone seemed happy and relaxed. It was kind of hippy, reminiscent of 1969 even, and he liked that. Kerry was wickedly witty, and knowledgeable, and loved jazz, so she was happy. And they'd finally got the first kiss over with on their previous date, when she had grabbed him and pulled him down into a kiss, claiming afterwards if she hadn't done, he'd have never got round to it. 'There's such a thing as being too much of a gentleman, Jack'. she'd said. The kiss wasn't fantastic, not all fireworks and passion and love and gentleness, but it was good. And if only he could shove away the memory of kissing Sam in a dark little corner somewhere, he could live with kisses like that. So, basically, right now, he was happy, and he wasn't thinking of Sam, and he was thinking, ok, I could live with this, this isn't too bad.
Until he saw her.
Kerry had seen a mendhi stall, and insisted on going over, to get herself a henna tattoo. And standing in front of the stall, her hand held out, getting an intricate little pattern painted on the back of her hand, was Sam.
He always forgot just how breath-takingly beautiful she was. When he saw her unawares, without time to prepare, she always took his breath away. And then she would turn, and smile at him, and he would make her laugh, and he would feel warm inside for the rest of the day.
Except now, she was turning away and smiling at Pete. And he was the one looking like his life had just been warmed. And once again, Jack was kicked in the stomach.
"Sir!" she said, quickly, turning around and seeing him. Damn, he couldn't run away now. Besides, Kerry was holding her hand out to the mendhi artist, and he couldn't turn and run and leave her.
"Carter." He said, dredging up a smile from somewhere. "Whatcha doing?"
"Getting mendhi." She said, smiling awkwardly, holding out her hand for him to inspect. It was painted with a thick black paste, in an intricate pattern.
"It turns dry, then drops off, and you're left with a kind of brown tattoo." Pete said, leaning over and looking at her hand. He had his pants leg rolled up, and was having one painted on his ankle. "Groovy baby." He joked, making the peace sign, then turned his attention back to his artist.
"What are you doing here? I wouldn't have thought this was your kind of thing." She said, gesturing at the huge soap bubbles some children were blowing across the path. He shrugged.
God, he loved her. He ached for her inside. He hadn't forgotten her, all the time he'd been with Kerry. He thought he had. Thought he was coping, but he was barely surviving without her. She was all his love, all his heart, all his life.
And all he could do now was let her go. So, thinking he was doing her a kindness, proving she hadn't destroyed his life, he said,
"I'm here on a date. With Kerry." He gestured to the woman standing behind Sam, getting her hand painted. Kerry turned and waved slightly.
Sam went white. A harsh white, sharp against the black of the mendhi. She didn't say anything. She couldn't. She didn't congratulate him, or say hito his date. She glanced once back at Kerry, then back up to him, and her blue eyes were huge, and pained. She swayed.
"Carter?" Jack asked, worried. He reached out a hand to her, but Pete grabbed her first.
"I told you to drink more, and wear a hat. You're getting a heat stroke." Pete said, tenderly remonstrating. Sam shrugged him off, and walked away. Muttering something about needing some water.
He watched her go, stricken. He didn't even notice Kerry look at him.
This was new. She was new. She was different. He leaned a little closer, and kissed the mendhi, delicately, so soft she can barely feel it, feel his lips on the flower below her knuckle, but it's enough to make her sigh, and arch her back, and wonder how she'd held out until now.
TWO WEEKS AGO
"I bought it." Pete announced, proudly, standing in front of the little house with the white picket fence (white picket fence? Where was she, cliché land?)
"You did?" she asked, swallowing.
"Yeah. Come in, have a look. It's all ours." Pete said, opening the gate, and bounding up in the path, in his excited little boy way, that she found so adorable. She paused at the gate, unsure for a moment, then followed him so slowly.
"See? I know it's small, but so cute. And look, isn't the kitchen great? All the fittings. And the curtains and carpets come with them, but we can change them if you like. Do you like?" he asked, leading her from room to room. He was so eager, but so anxious she should like it, and approve, approve of the house and him. She smiled, gently. The house was cute. And adorable. Little garden. Stained glass around the front door. A kitchen that while small, was practical. It even had gingham curtains. The bedroom was airy, and had a window that overlooked the back garden, and a cherry tree in full blossom. It was everything she'd ever dreamed of coming to, as a bride.
She hated it.
This wasn't her. She wasn't gingham curtains and white picket fences. She'd thought she was, but now she actually had them, she hated them.
But Pete was so excited. And she was marrying him. He'd made huge changes for her. So she could learn to like cherry trees outside her window, and a practical little kitchen.
"I love it." she said, and he kissed her delightedly. And when she closed her eyes to kiss him, she forgot the house, and just thought of the man she was kissing.
NOW
If she'd known the effect the mendhi would have, she'd have had it painted all up her arm, towards her lips. He was kissing her hand, a subtle little kiss for every twist in the pattern, and it was driving her crazy. He glanced up at her, grinning wickedly, knowing the effect he was having, then stroking the mendhi pattern once more, he began, finally, to kiss her way up her arm, pushing aside the sheet as he did so. She watched him, fascinated.
ONE WEEK AGO
So, ok, this wasn't too bad. He'd had worse dates. Ok, he hadn't had a date in a very long time, but he could still remember how awkward and disappointing they could be. But this was his third date with Kerry, and he was enjoying it. They were at a jazz festival, an open air one, and it was thronged with people. Around the ages of the park, there were stalls, selling food and silver jewellery. There was a bar, and kids play area, and everyone seemed happy and relaxed. It was kind of hippy, reminiscent of 1969 even, and he liked that. Kerry was wickedly witty, and knowledgeable, and loved jazz, so she was happy. And they'd finally got the first kiss over with on their previous date, when she had grabbed him and pulled him down into a kiss, claiming afterwards if she hadn't done, he'd have never got round to it. 'There's such a thing as being too much of a gentleman, Jack'. she'd said. The kiss wasn't fantastic, not all fireworks and passion and love and gentleness, but it was good. And if only he could shove away the memory of kissing Sam in a dark little corner somewhere, he could live with kisses like that. So, basically, right now, he was happy, and he wasn't thinking of Sam, and he was thinking, ok, I could live with this, this isn't too bad.
Until he saw her.
Kerry had seen a mendhi stall, and insisted on going over, to get herself a henna tattoo. And standing in front of the stall, her hand held out, getting an intricate little pattern painted on the back of her hand, was Sam.
He always forgot just how breath-takingly beautiful she was. When he saw her unawares, without time to prepare, she always took his breath away. And then she would turn, and smile at him, and he would make her laugh, and he would feel warm inside for the rest of the day.
Except now, she was turning away and smiling at Pete. And he was the one looking like his life had just been warmed. And once again, Jack was kicked in the stomach.
"Sir!" she said, quickly, turning around and seeing him. Damn, he couldn't run away now. Besides, Kerry was holding her hand out to the mendhi artist, and he couldn't turn and run and leave her.
"Carter." He said, dredging up a smile from somewhere. "Whatcha doing?"
"Getting mendhi." She said, smiling awkwardly, holding out her hand for him to inspect. It was painted with a thick black paste, in an intricate pattern.
"It turns dry, then drops off, and you're left with a kind of brown tattoo." Pete said, leaning over and looking at her hand. He had his pants leg rolled up, and was having one painted on his ankle. "Groovy baby." He joked, making the peace sign, then turned his attention back to his artist.
"What are you doing here? I wouldn't have thought this was your kind of thing." She said, gesturing at the huge soap bubbles some children were blowing across the path. He shrugged.
God, he loved her. He ached for her inside. He hadn't forgotten her, all the time he'd been with Kerry. He thought he had. Thought he was coping, but he was barely surviving without her. She was all his love, all his heart, all his life.
And all he could do now was let her go. So, thinking he was doing her a kindness, proving she hadn't destroyed his life, he said,
"I'm here on a date. With Kerry." He gestured to the woman standing behind Sam, getting her hand painted. Kerry turned and waved slightly.
Sam went white. A harsh white, sharp against the black of the mendhi. She didn't say anything. She couldn't. She didn't congratulate him, or say hito his date. She glanced once back at Kerry, then back up to him, and her blue eyes were huge, and pained. She swayed.
"Carter?" Jack asked, worried. He reached out a hand to her, but Pete grabbed her first.
"I told you to drink more, and wear a hat. You're getting a heat stroke." Pete said, tenderly remonstrating. Sam shrugged him off, and walked away. Muttering something about needing some water.
He watched her go, stricken. He didn't even notice Kerry look at him.