Pretty sure this is turning into a novel! Enjoy the read!
Jen let her thumb caress the edge of the book. The circular motion was a gesture she often let herself instinctively re-enact time and time again when her fingers came into contact with Tilly's soft skin. A habit she missed more than anything. This time Tilly wasn't present though, the motion instead turning the film reel in Jens head, the picture flickering clear and bright. She could see Tilly, sat at her desk, the evening sun fighting to keep its position in the sky, wanting desperately for its lazy glow to steal a few more glimpses of the gorgeous redhead, wishing it could disturb her concentration, steal her attention, and welcome her into its embrace before it had to disappear into twilight, leaving only a faint incandescence for the world above the horizon to see. Jen, glued to the projection in her head, watched as Tilly raised her hand and reached around to the back of her neck. She noticed Tilly's shoulders relax, her body giving in and absorbing the last moments of heat the sun generously donated to her. Jen felt the unrelenting ache in her heart as she noticed the tear stained face of the redhead, the film flickering simultaneously as if expressing its own sympathy for the stranger in the movie. Jen continued watching. Tilly returned her attention to the project laid out before her on the desk. It was the book that Jen was tenderly stroking in front of her, the pink ring bind and the pale green cover delicately decorated with birds instantly recognisable. She saw Tilly sigh deeply; her eyes closed gently, the downward movement of her lids aiding the escape of tears she'd been holding back. They dropped onto the page in front of her, relieved to have found a surface to adorn, feeling as if they'd been falling forever. Jen tried to focus in on the page onto which the tears had fallen. The words were a blur, but she could just about make out a small sketch in the corner of the page, it vaguely resembled Jen. Jen's thumb stopped circling, the film pausing in her head. She opened the book gently; it felt fragile, one clumsy movement threatening to obliterate it and her heart in perfect unison. She turned the pages, the feel of the crisp paper exciting her senses; they hadn't felt the foundation for her artwork for what felt like a lifetime and ached for her to abuse them to create another unforgettable composition. Jens eyes were eager to find the page she sought, her heartbeat matching the rapid pace at which she scanned the pages. About half way through she reached it, the small sketch of her profile catching her attention. It was amazingly detailed and Jen felt slightly dumbfounded at the prospect of Tilly drawing it without a visual aid. After letting her eyes study the sketch for a few more moments, she adjusted her stare to the words written on the page. She noticed the smudge of tear drops; they had tried to defile the beautiful script delicately gracing the paper, but failed as Tilly's handwriting swept elegantly across the page like silk, each letter joining with its partner seamlessly.
This wasn't the first time Jen had seen this page, in fact she knew exactly what was written on it. She knew what was written on every page. She had read the letters repeatedly after she returned home from work the day Tilly had given her the book. The relentless recitation of the letters wasn't just out of obligation, she wanted to feel every emotion Tilly had felt, she wanted to know them by heart, as if she had been with Tilly as she wrote them.
I'm letting them slide freely; surely unhappiness can't bond with my soul when it is slick with tears….
Jen traced the words with her finger as she read them, the connection to the page letting the words permeate her skin, travelling with purpose towards her soul. Tilly's words tattooing themselves to the inner walls of Jen's being, a now permanent reminder of Jen's failure to be there for her. She couldn't bring herself to read the whole letter, knowing that if she was to make any head way with Tilly she couldn't let herself be interrupted with unnecessary emotion. It wasn't that the emotion the letter created was simulated or insufficient, it was the complete opposite, but she had a mission to tackle, letting the sentiment of the letter overtake her would only delay if not completely cease her efforts.
But as she tried to collect her thoughts, she couldn't help but let her finger trace again the familiar circular pattern, this time over Tilly's name as it signed off the letter. The film reel in her head began to choke half-heartedly back to life, but the picture was faint, almost unrecognisable, the reel struggled to rotate, the frame on display flickering up and down. Just as a wave of disappointment began its descent upon Jen, she felt her stomach growl. The noise startled her. She was hungry. No wonder her brain function was laboured, why the imaginary film reel had spluttered like a car running on fumes. She needed food before she could address her next move.
She stood up, the sudden movement proving to be too much for her empty body to withstand; as she burnt the last of the fuel deposits the fumes that remained made her dizzy. She leant against her bedside table, patiently waiting for the dance of spots in front of her eyes to finish, bow to the crowd and exit the stage. She could feel her stomach growl again. She couldn't remember the last time she ate. Lunchtime yesterday maybe? As her eyesight normalised, she glanced down at the clock on the table. 03:59am. A fresh bought of dizziness shook through her as she realised it had been over a day since she had laid eyes on Tilly. Her heart retracted, hiding deeper within the walls of her chest. When she was with Tilly it beat proudly, loud and strong, determined to force through her chest and show the world how Tilly made her feel. Now, like a mistreated pet, it timidly beat in the depths of her chest, afraid to be abused by its owner. Jen didn't like the feeling. If her heart was feeling this way after her actions, how on earth was Tilly's feeling? The question didn't bear thinking about. All she could do now was try and mend what she had broken, guaranteeing the new parts would last a lifetime.
Jen returned from the kitchen, a sandwich Diane left her in the fridge satisfying the previously untamed beast in her stomach, and opening all fuel channels to the brain. She walked around her room, trying to correct the mess that she had created earlier, and at the same time looking for a familiar book. This book however belonged to her. As she scooped the debris of her desk off the floor and rearranged it, she saw the book poking out from under some art magazines. She ceased tidying and took it over the bed where she had left the book of Tilly's letters. She placed hers next to the more delicate looking book. It was her journal. She had kept a journal most of her adult life with a stack of back issues starting to collect dust in her wardrobe. The start date of her current journal had been the 10th April 2012. 3days before she had met Tilly. The brief recall of their first meeting sending a telegram to the butterflies in her stomach, the message read: Let's dance. Jen looked down at the dishevelled book; her every emotion, her every feeling, her every want and need had been recorded without holding back, over the past 10 months. Her heart and soul filled every page, much like Tilly's letters. There were feelings and thoughts in the diary that she hadn't shared with anyone. Not even Tilly. Until now. She planned to give Tilly the journal. In person, Jen was impulsive, hot headed, saying things she didn't mean, things she later regretted. When she wrote down her feelings nothing was written in the heat of the moment, what was transferred to the pages was the true extent of her feelings as if they were delivered via her pen straight from her heart. She needed Tilly to see the way she made her feel, feelings that she had never been able to express verbally. There could be no holding back now. Everything was on the line; nothing mattered to Jen anymore other than Tilly. She loved her endlessly, with all that she had. As she rejoiced at the thought, she felt her heart begin to creep slightly towards the front of her chest, its new found bravery transferring as stronger beats.
There was one task that needed fulfilling before she could part with her Journal. She needed to write todays entry.
