oOo
Brompton Cemetery was drab and grey, the air foggy and damp.
Edward placed the pink lilies on Irina's grave. Every time he came to visit her, he found it odd to imagine that her body was in the earth, under the stone. He couldn't help but wonder at which state of deterioration her body would be. Was it just bones? Or was there nothing any longer?
Where was her soul? Was it floating somewhere in the skies?
Or was what she'd left, her thoughts, her love, her photographs – was that all?
In the beginning, he'd imagined her to still be by his side. Sometimes, he'd catch himself talking back to her, or to reach out for her hand. At night, he hugged his pillows and made himself believe that it was her.
She always was with him in a way. She was his angel.
"Okay," he said to Tanya, Kate and Garrett. "I'm ready to go now."
.
Lunch was at Cecil's off Fulham Road. Edward ordered the wild sea bass and a glass of Chardonnay.
Tanya seemed bored, fiddling with her phone, checking emails. Kate tried to keep up the small talk, smiling all the time, while Garrett became the one to relate to for Edward.
They'd first met two years before, and he seemed a nice person, well read and interested in the arts.
Only one more hour, Edward told himself when the fish was placed in front of him.
He ordered another Chardonnay.
And that was it.
He got through lunch without freaking, crying, or getting stinking drunk.
He hugged Kate and Tanya and Garrett, and wished them a good flight back to Chicago.
And then he made his way to Bella.
It was just after two p.m. and Edward decided to walk. After fifteen minutes, he wasn't sure it had been such a good idea. His iPhone was no help at all, but then, Edward had never been good with maps.
He was good with colours, and with… well, just painting. That was all he was good at.
And he WAS good at it. His last painting, Evolving, had sold for four-hundred-thousand pounds. Not that he received that sum after taxes and his agent's share. But he was what one would call successful.
Daydreaming, thinking, Edward realized that he had lost his way. Big time.
He finally resorted to asking an elderly lady passing by.
"Of course, dearie. Just take a turn to the left there…" She pointed ahead. "Where they placed that ugly statue, and then walk ahead until you see the sign, Farouf's Couscous. Then directly to your left." She smiled.
"Thank you," Edward said, wishing he'd written it down.
He followed the lady's directions until at some point, there were buildings that seemed somewhat familiar. They were the ones he'd seen from the cab last night. He became excited, and his steps sped up.
He was walking toward Bella.
oOo
Thank you once again, my lovely readers. You make all the work worthwhile.
A note to anonymous reviewers: Do you want me to take you seriously if you make seven spelling mistakes in one sentence? Apart from the obvious fact that if you don't like it, why hang around?