CHAPTER 9

Derek could still feel the moment Karen's intoxicating breath had dived down the depth of his now sore throat and into his now curling stomach before she had climbed off his now suffering knees, and into the now rainy night. At the time he had been intrigued by her capacity to face his wits. He would play, and she would play back with as much excited spirit. Now, the mere thought of her built an ache within places he never thought could feel emotion. And the ache became more unbearable by the day.

As he aimlessly advanced further into the rainy night in the very early hours of morning, an agony coursed through every inch of his every organ as he pondered about what he felt.

He looked around, spotting two figures jogging away from the torrent on opposite sides of the street he walked. He tried to guess whether or not they thought about someone as they did such mundane an action, whether or not they knew the rain poured because they weren't with that someone, whether or not they were loved back by that person. The two figures looked so normal, so dully carved like two tears into the grey canvas of the night, that he thought it was impossible that they could ever feel the way he did. Such turbulence threatened to unleash in him, spin him until he fell face first onto the road, that they seemed to never have touched love. Maybe God was playing tricks on him again, smoking weed in the back of a truck with women caressing his hairy chest. The old man must have been laughing at him.

Derek shook his head. Love was a sickness to which he could never again find the cure.

He "had a thing for a girl once", as he called it. He had seen her one day, casually sauntering on the streets of London, and somehow he had noticed that she stood out with her dry blonde hair, her stark smile, chipped lips, earnest eyes, and young face, that he couldn't retain the wolfish grin he threw her way when she suddenly looked at him. As soon as he was out of her sight, he had turned around, and followed her to the other end of the city where she had sat facing the river, and he had followed suit. From then on, he didn't remember how the whole story rolled out, but he knew it was diamonds that trickled down on a silk carpet. They had a marvellous affair which ended after she found as eager a young man as she. She let Derek go, Kathy did, but it didn't hurt as much as he hoped it would. After that, women and love didn't seem as important to him. Hell, many men die alone. He guessed his independence and pride meant higher mountains for him to crawl to the peak of. Once he could do that and look down at the world, maybe, just maybe, he would let himself fall and have someone catch him at the end of the long descent that he imagined would be full of dreams and lights and glimmer.

Apparently, he was on it now, falling at five hundred miles an hour, though it was a long way down. And still arms did not await his arrival. He would have to touch the ground with a loud thud and break his bones, returning to the lonesome world that he had to face at the beginning of the journey. Then he would bring his weak legs back to the peak, soothing his loneliness with occasional heavy drinking, and countless women along the way.

"Excuse me?" Derek heard a whisper. It woke him from the nightmare, albeit the decor did not fully fade away.

"Excuse me?" Derek heard again, and stopped when footsteps came behind him.

"Uh, you lost your wallet."

He turned around. Took the wallet. Didn't bother to give an audible enough 'Thank you'. Routine enveloped him again.

He let his eyes travel the horizon. The sun was exhibiting more of its rays, and little coffee shops revealed people arranging the tables. He faintly wondered what time it was before his steps retired to the hotel. There he settled on the bed, though unable to catch any sleep.

When his alarm unpleasantly squealed at 9AM, he blinked, still awake, and headed to the theatre after a cold shower.

What did he mean by 'foolish'?

Karen stayed on her seat after Derek departed. She felt the impulse to chase him before he had the chance to vanish between skyscrapers, yet something held her down. She needed the answers to so many questions, but after getting a newer glimpse into his soul, she was sure that he was not the one to provide them.

Several moments passed before she finally paid the bartender and left for the hotel.
As she traversed the streets with familiar confusion, Karen pushed through the crowds of drunk stupors. They smiled at her with a vengeance she couldn't repulse. She noticed that she was already weak on her feet from the Whisky when the world began to float away, so she interpreted their vengeance as some sort of last wish for her to realize what she was dealing with, accompanied with a 'We told you so'. She was definitely drunk.

When Karen stumbled onto her bed, its stiff coldness absorbed any warmth she thought she had left. Her lids dropped almost instantly, and in her dress, with her makeup smearing the sheets, she dozed off. The last thought that came to her was that she would be late for rehearsal.

The following morning, Karen was surprised that her alarm beep, and even more so that she didn't have more than a headache from her last binge with alcohol.

After cleaning up, she headed to rehearsal with music streaming in her ears.

During the day, if anything brings back your demons, they will only torment you until the day is over and you go to sleep. The next day, they don't bother you as much. It's like nothing happened, she thought upon opening the plain doors of their new reception building. Karen prayed silently that their success would continue once the audience would melt into the burgundy seats, and cheer them on.

Jessica was at her feet the moment Karen stepped into the dressing rooms, popping questions about where she had left last night, why she hadn't bothered informing them, and whether or not she had met a cute guy who was worth a silent escapade. Karen, denying any of it with remnants of lack of sleep seeping through her voice, dressed for rehearsal.

Linda poked her head in the door. "We'll be delaying for half an hour. Derek didn't come in yet."

The news surprised most of the crew. The director felt his excellence so tangible that he was always early. When Linda had retreated to her business, Bobby shot up.

"I overheard Julia and Eileen talking. Apparently the Dark Lord has pancreatic cancer."

Half of the room gasped, while the other stayed shut.

"Are you kidding?"

"Never."

"Wow. And I thought he was invincible."
"Is it terminal?"

"Where is he now?"

"Are you serious?"

"Look, guys, I don't know. And I'd prefer you didn't start gossiping about it. Wouldn't want to get fired because I mentioned his cancer."

The ensemble and Karen complied with hints of compassion as they retreated to their costumes. The previous energy that emancipated the room soon disintegrated, replaced by a slowness marked in the occupants' movements while putting on make-up, and correcting their hair. A blink or two couldn't restore the minimal noise warranted to suppress awkwardness, so Bobby took the lead again.

"I'm sure it's nothing. And it actually made me realize that... even though we don't love him that much... seeing him go for long enough would totally make us miss him. A lot. Even though we'd probably never admit it." His words were enough to disinfect the room of its troubled mood. A few chuckles shed its tension. And soon enough, their director was back in the game with somewhat of a smile spread across his unshaven face. Each let go of a breath they didn't know they held insecurely.

Later that day, when the sun began to clutch the sheets of the horizon, the crew was released until their night performance. As per usual, most went to lunch in small groups while others prepared for solitary relaxing baths.

Karen longed for one. Instead, she knew she had an influence to make, a spell to cast. She exited the building into the fresh four o'clock air. A light breeze danced around her fingers and hair, trailing along her bare back. Soon enough, she spotted her director, sitting very still before his stage that was the park that began to fill with healthy runners.

"Is it true?" Karen asked as she sat next to him on the bench.

Derek looked at her, confused, as she had expected.

"I heard you have cancer," she tried, unwilling to rage him.
Derek sigh and gulped, knowing a lie would be ages too late. "Yes. How the hell did you hear?"

Mumbling that she had learned it from someone, he snorted and guessed the correct person. After an instant's disturbing hesitance, she continued."Have you taken a treatment?"

He breathed again, cautiously choosing his words, debating whether or not he could release any sort of information. "I had stage three pancreatic cancer four years ago. They removed it with surgery. It was the size of a walnut. Then they told me that it would probably grow back. They were right. I had to take chemotherapy to get rid of small amounts of the cancer the whole thing back. It was so difficult that I couldn't keep doing it. I felt sick two days straight after taking the drugs. After a while, I realized that if I continued it, then I'd lose my life. I wouldn't be able to observe people and figure out their little ways. I wouldn't be able to live like a proper human being, and living's all we've got," Derek said, rarely meeting her eye. Then he stared off into the distance. "In the end, we all vanish six feet under the earth. It's just a matter of time before we catch our last breath. And I've done everything I could to enhance this wonderfully ignorant collective life we're all leading. Someone else is going to have to take my spot."

After a while of thoughtful silence, she said, "I care about you."

He thought it through, as though the words were somewhat sacred and tough to digest. "At one point, you're going to have to stop caring. Because if you don't, when I die, it's going to hurt. And the last thing I want is for anyone to get hurt."

"Then continue the chemotherapy. One day, it will be over. I'm not the only one who cares."

"I can't. That would be cheating death, and I'm done playing her games."

Karen mused again, registering his words for a later conversation. "I forgive you."

Derek paused. "That's actually very selfish to say, not to mention completely out of context and useless."

"I know. But I had to say it to feel better. Don't you want to be better? Don't you want to be strong enough to make it go away? You're not actually going to let yourself die, and let us mourn in tears."

Karen gazed into Derek's eyes, relishing the serenity they had established between them as they spoke. She hoped that the glimmer in his eye indicated the reconsideration of his opinion. In a flow of movement, she got up to leave, feeling satisfied to have him hanging on her words, but he caught her wrist at the last moment.

"Someone always ends up in pain. I chose the egotistical way out – to soothe my own misery." He let go of her. Karen gazed at him again, searching for some kind of dishonesty to his words. When she didn't find any, her lips parted slightly, and she dropped her eyes, admitting defeat. Her feet drove her away.

Long after she had vacated her spot, Derek still kept a stoic figure. He thought he could still feel her heat warm his cold heart from the emptiness she left. Finally, he let himself close his eyes, but not in shame.

Derek could accept Karen's naivety, how it blended between the thick lines of her eyeliner, the childish puffiness of her cheeks, and the way it somehow blurred into the elegance of a woman's intricate innuendos. He could let himself look into her eyes to retrieve traces of spontaneous fun and simple love, something he was used to, yet didn't wish to obtain. But, that night, her fighting and digging her little nails into his heart to try and dispel his firmly set mind was something he could hardly gulp down, even with a full glass of Whisky.

After yet another terrific performance brought by their cast that never crushed the thrill of the audience's resounding clapping, Derek wandered in town, again. As per usual, he entered a bar, this time dimly lit, apparently unattractive to any passing work-inflicted, sullen bastards. He was glad for the latter fact. If anyone even dared glance his way, he would have to set their jaw way out of place.

He got around to thinking about his situation, ordering Scotch to ease his mind, breathing heavily after each glass to prevent his eyelids from dropping. Two women had come to seek his company, and having felt ever the gentleman trait grip him, he decided not to throw his fist in their Barbie doll faces; a snide comment accompanied with a twisted smirk worked sufficiently.

Afterwards, the image of a young woman with soft brown eyes and full pink lips spreading on pampered rosy cheeks slid into his mind without him noticing. He almost believed her figure was the object of one of his previous hallucinations. What made it different from the latter, though, was the lack of the purple dress, and the puffy blonde hair. The naivety and thick eyeliner were still very much integrated in her persona. The brunette dressed herself before him, round hips and slender legs deliciously tempting, before bending down for a kiss on the nose. He nearly closed his eyes. Then he realized she would probably disappear if he did. His lips parted, almost in a jealous manner. At that train of thought, his eyes shot open from their sway of drunken stupor.

Comprehension swept him away as though he were in turbulent sea. He was jealous, but not of her. No, he was jealous of what was inside her, inside her mind, and of what she saw with her pretty eyes. The way she viewed the world as a sacred place where ambition grew like apples on tall trees, where all people had a good side which she could bring out, where collective tears wouldn't be of much greater dimension than lake Michigan. And then he wondered if his life would become any simpler if he were to truly believe in something, anything, the way she believed in whatever she came into contact with. Then he wondered if he was shedding too much of her remorse and fear in order to bring out the annoying naivety. He truly hated the world, and he decided he had attributed it too many times to her. Maybe, he wondered, he mistook the naivety for compassion. Perhaps the latter sounded a little more egotistical, (or perhaps the former did, depending on your religion,) thus shortening the arm's length he tried to keep her at.

Derek payed the bartender, feeling a lot lighter with the realization now clear in his mind. He could piece the missing corner of the puzzle starting from there.

If he was jealous of her, then he would most definitely keep her close, but not too. However, replaying them, their conversations at the bars seemed to prove that he had actually embraced her tender feelings and understanding smiles instead of keeping her at bay. He tried to push those thoughts away, jerking his head from side to side, and passing gentlemen seemed displeased with his behaviour. Blaming his disclosure of his past on the booze seemed not too bad an idea; certainly greedy to accuse something that was never at fault, but he figured it easier to apologize to inanimate objects than take the blame on himself.

Derek thought about how he had opened up to Karen about his childhood. That part of the past was a memory he was not too keen on revisiting, and recounting the beginning of his tale seemed to be easier to a stranger than to someone he knew. Maybe the clueless bastard would actually be too scared to judge.

He thought about how he felt some sort of enchantment overpower him when he was around her. Then he thought about his random, strange urges to stroke his lips with hers under the moonlight's hidden eye whenever she grinned. It all felt strange to him.

Derek felt the need to collapse on the corner of the street to close his eyes and dream. He called a cab, and climbed into the stinking car that brought him to the hotel where he jumped under the covers of the bed, falling asleep instantly.

Tormenting thoughts would need to knock on his door later.

A/N : I will never apologize enough for the horribly long update. I had a few emotional issues as well as a writer's block. I really lost track as to where the story was headed, and I understand this chapter is very much descriptive with not much action going on. That will change.

I won't promise anything, because I hate being disappointed and disappointing people. I will simply do my best to figure out this story, and make my updates come sooner.